Taming the Shrewd
by magentacr
Summary: Post-Reichenbach. Molly cares for Sherlock as he recovers and stays in hiding after the fall, but living with Sherlock can be full of challenges. Will she put up with it, or put him in his place? A compliment piece to my other story 'A New Page', but works on its own too. Rated T to be safe.
1. The Autopsy

AN: **I do not own any of the characters. **

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"Autopsy report for Mr Sherlock Holmes. White British male, approximately mid-thirties. Committed suicide by jumping off the roof of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. Cause of death: Trauma to the head and possible internal injuries, I'll know more when I open him up." Molly spoke aloud for the recorder, as with all her autopsies. She carried on with her report, all the usual things you would find with a jumper.

Thankfully not what she was seeing in front of her.

It was Sherlock Holmes, but he wasn't dead. It was a close one though. He was still unconscious, and would be for a few hours yet on the medication she had given him. He really had suffered a head trauma, which concerned Molly deeply, but hopefully it would just be a concussion. He had four broken ribs, a fractured radius in his arm and an awful lot of bruising, but given the circumstances she was glad that was all. He would be in a lot of pain when he woke up though, even with the medication.

Molly dressed his wounds as she talked, taking great care. She hardly gave a thought to how much trouble she'd be in if they found about the supplies she'd stolen from upstairs for this, or for lying on an autopsy report. Sherlock had asked for _her_ help, and she was not going to let him down. No sacrifice was too much for the man she loved, especially given the sacrifice he had just made, that had landed him on her table.

Having finished her report, and all she could do for Sherlock until he awoke, Molly left him covered on the table and moved onto her next body. She had a couple more to get done today. And then there was Moriarty, although she was uncertain if she would be able to deal with him today, the temptation to stab him repeatedly with her scalpel would be too much. It was too late to hurt him, and she didn't want to add damaging evidence to her list of crimes. No, probably better to leave him until she had her emotions in check better.

Molly had nearly finished with both her other 'patients' and was beginning to get worried, when she heard a faint groan from Sherlock. Immediately she dropped what she was doing and rushed to him. He started to turn his head to look at her and hissed in pain again.

"Shh, don't try to move." Molly said gently, surprised to find herself crying with relief "How are you feeling?"

"Bruised all over, possible broken ribs and arm, and a concussion?" Sherlock gave his self-analysis.

"Four ribs. And I should expect so, you hit your head rather hard. I was concerned-"

"Painkillers?" Sherlock asked through gritted teeth, cutting her off.

Molly looked up at the clock to check if it was safe to give him another dose yet, and was shocked by the time. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I should have given you more sooner, hold on a second." She hurried to get another needle ready with the medicine, mentally flogging herself for not taking better care of him and having it ready. She pushed the needle into his good arm and released the painkiller into his bloodstream. "Better?" She asked.

"Somewhat." Was his short reply, closing his eyes and sighing. His eyes snapped back open with an urgency as the pain stopped clouding his mind. "Molly, I need to know, are John, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade alright?"

"Mrs Hudson and Lestrade?" Molly asked in confusion.

"Yes. It wasn't just John Moriarty threatened to make me jump like I suspected, it was them as well. Now tell me, are they okay?" Sherlock asked urgently, genuine concern in his voice.

"Yes. I think so-" Molly started

"You _'think so' _isn't good enough." Sherlock snapped "I need to **know**. I need proof. Have you seen or heard from any of them since?"

"Um… Lestrade was here, a few hours ago. He came to investigate the situation and came down to see how I was doing. He said he was on his way to break the news to Mrs Hudson after. I haven't heard anything about them since…" Molly said uncertainly.

"It's enough. And John?"

"I haven't seen him myself, but Mike came down to talk about what had happened, said he'd taken John home. He was just standing there kind of… numb with shock ages after they bought you in. Mike thought he might need examining, but John wouldn't accept any help but a ride back to Baker Street." Molly told him. She instantly felt bad for mentioning the last part, as Sherlock closed his eyes in pain, which Molly could tell wasn't from his injuries. She opened her mouth to apologise, but Sherlock spoke first.

"It was for the best, for them." He said, reassuring himself. He opened his eyes again, looking at Molly "Thank you. Don't let me keep you from your work."


	2. Night in the Morgue

_AN: Wow, can't believe how many followers I have already! Nice to have you all on board._

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**Night in the Morgue**

Molly finished up her work and started tidying up for the night, giving Sherlock the space he needed to think. She couldn't stop herself glancing his way every few minutes though, just to be sure he was okay. When everything was done she went to get the wheelchair and clothes she had snuck down and took them over to Sherlock.

"Okay, all done, let's get you out of here." She said, smiling nervously at him. "I managed to borrow a car off a friend for the weekend, it's just out back."

"I might need some help" Sherlock said blankly. Molly knew it was hard for him to ask.

"Of course" She said, smiling reassuringly. Gently as she could she slid a hand under his shoulder, helping to lift him. Sherlock gritted his teeth and hissed in pain, making Molly wince. She had him halfway up when he yelled out.

"Molly! Molly Stop!" Immediately she did, and Sherlock took a couple of pained breaths. "I can't. Put me back down." Gently, Molly lay him back down, biting her lip in concern. Sherlock took some more deep breaths, wincing from his broken ribs as he did. "Any chance of something stronger for the pain? Only to move me"

"It's too soon after your last one. It would be too dangerous…" Molly said, wringing her hands in worry.

"Tomorrow then" Sherlock said, closing his eyes.

"Tomorrow? But… but I can't stay here all night with you." Molly stammered

"I wasn't suggesting that"

Molly was equally shocked by this idea. "I can't leave you here alone!"

"Why not?"

"You're completely helpless!" Molly pointed out, "What if you need something?"

"The only things I'm likely to need are more medication and the toilet. Since even with your help I can't move at the moment we can do nothing about the latter, and as for the first, leave the needle, I can inject myself." Sherlock said with a sigh. Molly could see the slight glimmer of the tears he was holding back at the reality of how helpless he was, and felt answering tears spring in her own eyes. He wouldn't want her pity though; it would make him feel worse, so she turned away from him, busying herself with preparing a needle for him.

"You need to wait at least two hours before using this." She instructed, putting the needle in his right hand. She pulled out her mobile, selected her house number and put it in his left hand. "Just press the call button if you need anything else. I'll come as soon as I can."

"Thank you" Sherlock said stiffly.

"Right. Well, if I'm leaving you I'm going to have to put the sheet back over you." Molly said, pulling it back up. She saw Sherlock's small nod and spread it over him, waiting until it had settled over him to allow the sadness to creep over her features. She put the wheelchair away, gathered her things and headed out, clicking off the lights.

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A few hours later Sherlock was awoken from an uneasy sleep, by the sound of someone moving around in the dark morgue. Pain gripped him where his medication had worn off, but he daren't move even slightly to inject himself, in case whoever was in the lab saw his movement. The footsteps drew closer to Sherlock and he mentally prepared himself for a number of potential possible scenarios. His sheet was pulled back from his face, and staring down at him was the last face he expected to see.

Moriarty.

Sherlock carefully controlled his face, not allowing a flicker of response, keeping his eyes staring blankly past Moriarty, rather than allowing them to focus, or be drawn to the movement. Moriarty examined him closely, then backed away, tutting.

"I am disappointed Sherlock. For a second I nearly believed you could be as brilliant as me. But you were ordinary after all. And now you're dead." Moriarty shook his head "Oh well. Back to making trouble for big brother. And all the queens men" He pulled the sheet back up over Sherlock's face and walked away.

Sherlock heard the door open and shut, but he didn't trust it, so remained still for a little longer. While he waited, he thought. He should have checked Moriarty was really dead up on the roof. But how could he have faked it? Not a blank. Maybe a fake gun, Sherlock had only seen it for a second, he hadn't checked that either. Fake gun, fake blood and some kind of drug to make him appear dead, most likely. He would need to investigate, get some samples… then he remembered his _helpless_ condition. It would be a while before he'd be up to investigating again. Tears threatened to fill his eyes again, but he fought against it. Fought against the emotion. He pushed the needle into his leg, letting the drug wash away the pain enough for him to doze off again.


	3. Bodies and Bookshelves

_AN: Hi guys! Welcome to all my new followers, cant believe how many this has already. Sorry if this chapter is a bit dull, felt it was kind of necessary though. Having a bit of writers block, struggling to get what I want to say out. I promise something exciting for tomorrows update though :)_

**Bodies and Bookshelves**

The next day, Molly arrived 15 minutes early to work. A few of her colleges noticed and she told them it was because she hadn't been able to sleep so got up early. It was pretty much the truth; she had been expecting/waiting for her phone to ring all night, and hadn't got much sleep as a result.

As soon as she got to the morgue she hurried over to Sherlock, pulling the sheet down from his face. At first she thought he was asleep, as his eyes were closed, but they soon snapped open when she gently called his name.

"He's gone." Sherlock said immediately, skipping the formalities.

Molly scrunched her brow in confusion. "Who?" she asked uncertainly.

"Moriarty of course" Sherlock snapped as if it as obvious.

Molly gave a small gasp and ran to check where she had left Moriarty's body. Sure enough, it was gone. She hurried back to Sherlock. "But how? Did someone take the body? Why didn't you call?" she babbled.

"No, he got up and walked out." Sherlock said like it was obvious "He must have faked his death, like I faked mine. I couldn't do anything at the time; the slightest movement could have jeopardised everything. And by the time he left it was too late for you to get here, so I figured it could wait until morning"

"Right, well, have you called the police? No of course not, you can't, silly me. I'll call them then." Molly took the phone out of Sherlock's hand and started to dial, but Sherlock's voice stopped her.

"And what will you tell them?"

"Don't worry I won't mention you. But they need to be warned that Moriarty is alive and out there somewhere!" Molly told him, putting in the last digit.

"Think Molly!" Sherlock snapped at her "Nobody but me saw him walk out. Without me all you know is that a body has gone missing, that's not conclusive proof he's alive. You would sound crazy"

"But the security cameras in the hall, surely-"

"They will have been taken care of. How were you planning on getting us past them anyway?" Sherlock added.

"There's a rotation, we could sneak past at the right moment" Molly explained.

"And having worked in IT here all those months go Moriarty would know that too." Sherlock pointed out.

"Oh. Yeah, of course" Molly mumbled "What do we do then?"

"What would you usually do if a body went missing" Sherlock asked

"Assume you took it for an experiment" Molly joked. Her smile quickly died at the unimpressed look on Sherlock's face. She cleared her throat "I don't know Sherlock, this kind of thing never happens usually."

"How dull" Sherlock sighed "Well report the missing body to whoever you have to then. Quickly preferably, I need you to give me my painkillers and help me up. I want to try and get to the bathroom."

"Oh! You should have said sooner! I'll help you up now" Molly offered. She loaded up a needled with the stronger painkiller she had managed to obtain and gave him the injection.

It did the trick, as they were able to sit Sherlock all the way up this time. Once they were passed the halfway point it had been easier, and sitting up was just as good as lying. His legs had thankfully suffered very little damage, apart from a few bruises, so standing wasn't a problem either, other than the strong painkillers making him feel a little woozy. In fact, it was making him feel a little sleepy, but Sherlock fought it. Molly nervously watched him sway a little on the spot and stepped up to his side, gently pulling his good arm over her shoulder to support him. He gave her a bleary smile that made her heart melt, before starting moving.

Molly helped him over to the disabled toilets, where there were plenty of bars for him to hold onto while he took care of business, and even managed to help him into some clothes when he had finished. Sherlock frowned at the baggy black tracksuit bottoms and white t-shirt that were definitely not his style, but he had to admit privately that they were a lot more comfortable on his battered body than his normal tight clothes would be.

Finally Molly helped Sherlock over to her office, where he slumped into her chair, giving into the drowsiness of the drug and falling asleep within seconds. Molly smiled motherly and reached out nervously, brushing his messy locks out of his face, before leaving the office to get on with the day's work.

When she reported the missing body the morgue became a revolving door for different security personnel investigating, but thankfully she was able to keep them away from her office. It did mean she lost the head start she had for the morning however, meaning it was nearly 7:00 by the time she was done and was able to sneak Sherlock out to take him home.

After a tense journey, with Molly looking over her shoulder constantly in fear of Sherlock being spotted, they finally made it to Molly's apartment; Sherlock's home for the months to come. The drug hadn't completely left his system yet, so he was still leaning on her on the way up to and into her apartment. Molly had a room made up for him, but took him over to the sofa instead, to be more sociable.

"Welcome to your new home!" She said brightly, a flicker of nervousness still on her face, waiting for Sherlock's opinion.

Sherlock's eyes scanned the room. He may be drowsy, but that didn't stop him noticing everything. Furniture was not highly stylish, but practical, as he would expect from Molly, though there were also plenty of frivolous, feminine decorations accenting the room. Her dvd collection was alphabetized, as was her bookshelf, and everything was arranged just so. Clearly she was a proud housekeeper. There was hair on the sofa though, probably from a cat. Sure enough a pair of yellow eyes peered at him from behind the TV stand, wary of her new house guest. She had many pictures over her mantelpiece and stuck to the front of her fridge of her and a bunch of people who had to be her family, judging by the slight resemblance. An older picture, taken when Molly was probably in her young teens, sat pride of place in the middle. Probably was the last picture she had of her whole family together, before her dad died. She had 1 sister, older than her, who now had two children by the looks of things. Molly had all their school pictures.

"Well?" Molly asked, having been more unnerved by the amount of time he had spent staring around the room. Perhaps his mind was running slower than usual, Sherlock thought.

"Very you. Obviously" He answered, too tired to go into the details out loud. He definitely wasn't going to ask for any more of whatever she had given him this morning. No good for brain work at all.

Molly beamed at his answer, rushing away to the kitchen and rummaging in the cupboards. "You're not allergic to anything are you? I was thinking soup for dinner, something easy for you to eat."

"I'm not hungry" Sherlock replied automatically.

Molly bit her lip, and then straightened her shoulders "Sorry Sherlock, but I'm not taking No for an answer. You're in my care and your body needs the food even if you don't fancy it. Now, is potato and leek okay?"

"Fine" Sherlock replied blankly, though his lip quirked slightly at her bossiness. Provoking her strong side was almost as fun as winding John up. Living here might prove to be fairly interesting after all.


	4. Tea and Theft

**Tea and Theft**

The first week they fell into a pattern. Molly would get up, find Sherlock already awake and staring at the ceiling, give him his medication and change his dressings before getting ready for work. Sherlock would spend the day deep in thought, occasionally interrupted by Molly's cat, which was apparently named Toby, and who had apparently decided he was safe to approach and a comfortable place to sit. When Molly got home she would all but drag Sherlock into the kitchen, where she would chatter away about her day with little encouragement while preparing food for them both against Sherlock's wishes. Sometimes he protested, just to get a reaction. Sometimes he contributed advice when she talked about a particularly puzzling body, but without seeing it he couldn't make a full deduction. Once he suggested going back in with her to look, but Molly would have none of it. Sherlock was too disappointed in not being allowed to go to enjoy her bossiness over the point.

Saturday started the same, with the exception that Molly was going out to do the shopping rather than going to work. At first Sherlock didn't even notice the difference, until he heard her return after only a few hours and start banging around putting things away, before turning on the TV, and presumably settling down to watch. Suddenly Sherlock had had enough.

"BORED" he shouted

"Come watch TV with me then" Molly called back.

"I don't want to watch _telly_" Sherlock spat bitterly.

Molly sighed and got up, coming to stand in the doorway to his room. "What do you want then?"

"I need to start gathering Intel on Moriarty's network, try and break it down so I don't have to spend the rest of my life hiding in this flat. I already have a couple of ideas for where to start, but I'm going to need my laptop" he said pointedly, turning to look at Molly expectantly.

"Okay, where is it? Baker Street?" She asked obediently.

"Obviously"

"I can't just break in and grab it, Sherlock" She protested

"Of course not." Sherlock replied "You're going to visit John and Mrs Hudson, offer your sympathies, find out how they're coping and all that. If my laptop happens to slip into your bag while you're there, then all the better" he smiled with a wink.

Molly nodded, looking a bit sad "It's not going to be easy lying to them" She said quietly.

Sherlock's impassive face softened in sympathy. "You'll be lying to keep them safe Molly. You shouldn't feel guilty when you're acting in their best interests."

Molly met his eyes and nodded, quickly leaving to get ready. She tried to fix his words in her mind, but already knew they were fruitless. They clearly weren't working for him

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Half an hour later, Molly was standing outside the familiar door of 221b Baker Street, halfway hoping that nobody would be in. Mrs Hudson quickly came to the door though, cautiously opening it and peering out. She relaxed when she saw Molly, opening the door wider with a sad smile.

"Hello Molly dear. How can I help you? I'm afraid none of the boys are here, well of course you'll know about Sherlock won't you." She trailed off, looking away with a sad look that wrenched Molly's heart.

"Yes I know" Molly said softly "I was just coming to see how you and John were coping."

"Oh you're such a kind girl. Come in, I'll pop the kettle on." Mrs Hudson smiled at her, pottering away into her flat. Molly's eyes travelled up to the flat above it, before following her.

Mrs. Hudson was filling up an old fashioned kettle, the type that goes on the stove, when Molly got there. "You sit down Mrs Hudson, I'll do that" Molly offered

"Oh thank you for the offer dear, but it's fine. It's nice to have someone to make tea for again" She said, putting the kettle on the stove and starting to pull out cups and saucers.

Molly sat at the table "So where is John then? Earlier when you said… I thought he'd just popped out"

"Oh I wish," Mrs Hudson replied with a sigh, "He couldn't bear it, staying up there on his own, with all Sherlock's stuff still lying about, untouched. I offered him the other flat, but he and Sherlock had memories there too. Something to do with a case, I never did find out what. He's moved in with his dear sister, Harriett, for a while. He says he doesn't know how long, or if he'll even be back at all."

"Well that's understandable" Molly said, feeling bad for being glad he wasn't about. She had been dreading seeing him and was glad to put it off. "And how are you coping Mrs Hudson?"

"Coping" Mrs Hudson nodded sadly "It's so quiet now. He used to drive me crazy sometimes, with all the noise and the mess. But y'know I kind of miss it now. I suppose that's what it's like when you have kids and they grow up and move out. Only sort of… condensed." She turned away, pulling the whistling kettle off the stove and pouring the tea. Her voice was slightly shaky from tears when she spoke again "Those boys were the closest I had to kids of my own. Sherlock mostly, he was such a big kid. The tantrums he's have when he could find nothing to do. And the way his face lit up when he had a crime to solve. Not the nicest of things to get excited about, but it did make him _so_ happy, it was almost infectious." She sighed, placing down the cups in front of her and Molly and sitting, resting her face in her palm, leaning on the table. "He was so full of life. Didn't care what anyone thought of him. That's why it was so surprising. It's horrible what the papers are saying about him, saying he's a fraud, when he most certainly was not! I can't believe he let it get to him though. It's just so unlike him."

Molly nodded, taking a long slurp from her tea to avoid answering. _It's for her own good_ Molly reminded herself. Mrs Hudson shook her head, as if trying to clear it and focused on Molly again.

"And how are you coping with it all, dear?" She asked "I know you were very taken with him."

Molly nodded "I'm… I'm okay. It was hard, having to deal with his broken body" She said, drawing from the one bit she could be honest about "But I work in a morgue, so I'm kind of acclimatised to it. It's always harder when it's someone you know though. Someone you… loved"

Mrs Hudson nodded and put a comforting hand on Molly's arm. It was more than Molly could take, being comforted for a lie, so she quickly drained her tea and stood up.

"Thanks for the tea Mrs Hudson, it was nice. And it's been nice talking. Do you mind if I just use the toilet before I go?"

"Of course not dear, it's just under the stairs" Mrs Hudson replied, looking a little disappointed at how quickly their visit had come to an end.

Molly nodded and all but ran out the room. Rather than going into the toilet though, she crept up the stairs to Sherlock's old flat, being careful of the creaky step. She slipped inside and quickly located the laptop and power supply, putting them in her messenger bag and disguising the shape with her coat and umbrella, before slipping back out. Her eyes widened when she saw Mrs Hudson waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her.

"You know if you wanted a keepsake you only had to ask dear, you didn't have to pretend to be going to the toilet" Mrs Hudson said, with a small smile to let Molly know it was okay.

"Th..Thanks Mrs Hudson." Molly stuttered, letting her breath go and coming down the stairs "It's silly, but I just needed… something"

"I know. _I have one of his scarves"_ She whispered as Molly passed her. They both smiled sadly, and Molly laughed nervously again, before giving Mrs Hudson a kiss on the cheek on the way out.

"Thanks again for the tea"

"Anytime dear, don't be a stranger"

* * *

"How were they?" Sherlock called from his room the second she got in.

"John doesn't live there anymore-" Molly began, kicking off her shoes and shrugging out of her coat.

"Did Mrs Hudson say where he is now? Is he at Harry's?"

"Yes" Molly hung up her bag and retrieved the laptop from it.

"Well that's not going to end well. And how is Mrs Hudson?" He was sitting at the desk when she walked in, obviously ready to use the laptop. "Oh good girl, you got it."

"I think she's lonely" Molly answered his first question, setting the laptop and cable in front of him. He raised his eyebrows and scooted his chair back. Obediently Molly picked up the plug and crawled under to plug it in "She caught me coming down from your flat by the way; she knew I'd taken something but didn't ask what. She assumed it was a keepsake and let me off."

"Good old Mrs Hudson" Sherlock grinned. Molly popped back up from under the desk and he kissed her cheek "Thank you Molly" he said warmly, before putting on his game face and turning to the laptop. Molly blushed furiously, opening and closing her mouth as if struggling to find something to say, then gave up, realising his attention was no longer on her, and probably wouldn't be for some time. Still pink cheeked she got up and left him to it.

* * *

_AN: I know it's not really theft as he asked her to get it for him, but it made for an exciting title ;) _


	5. Attending One's Own Funeral

**Attending One's Own Funeral**

The next week's routine was much the same as the firsts, with the slight change that rather than thinking all day, Sherlock spent his time on his laptop, digging up information on Moriarty's network. It was slow going to start with, but kept him busy. His newfound occupation made it a fair bit harder for Molly to drag him away for meals, but somehow she still managed it.

Most of the superficial damage Sherlock had suffered from the fall had now healed; the scrapes on his face and most of the bruising. Visibly all that remained was the broken arm which he held tight to his body. Inside he was still a mess, his ribs still aching with every breath, but for today he was ignoring that and loading up on the painkiller Molly had been trying to wean him off of, as he had somewhere important to be.

After all, it would be extremely rude to miss his own funeral.

It would be a huge risk, not at all the smart thing to do, but Sherlock couldn't fight the feeling he needed to be there. He needed to see them all, safe and sound, one last time before his extended period of hiding. He trusted nobody's eyes but his to tell him how they were all coping.

Of course Molly would never have allowed it if she knew where he was going. Thankfully she was at work, and shouldn't be back until after Sherlock returned. She hadn't wanted to go to the funeral herself, not sure she could maintain the lie in front of so many mourning him. Thankfully her job gave her the perfect excuse.

Sherlock walked to the cemetery, sticking to backstreets and avoiding busy streets where he might be recognised, or picked up on Mycroft's surveillance network. His own funeral party wasn't there yet, so he picked a good spot where he could see his freshly dug grave, with minimal risk of being spotted himself, and waited.

Right on time they arrived, the pall-bearers carrying his coffin from the chapel the other side of the cemetery, followed by his friends and family. Sherlock was unsurprised how small the group was, and it didn't bother him in the slightest. He'd rather have a small group of close friends than crowds of people he barely knew or liked. This was quality over quantity. The casket was lowered into the ground while the group looked on solemnly. As the dirt was thrown over it, Sherlock got a good look at each of the assembled mourners.

Firstly his Mother. The only one who had nothing to do with the whole affair, and yet she was there with them, suffering the same. Sherlock was quietly thankful that Moriarty hadn't targeted his Mother along with the others he held dear, but then he supposed even a criminal mastermind like Moriarty would struggle to get past the layers of security Mycroft made sure she had. She was probably better guarded than the crown jewels. Seeing her quietly weeping at his grave, Sherlock suddenly regretted not calling her more. He would have to fix that when he came back. Other than her upset over losing her son, she seemed to be okay; in good health and well looked after. And the Holmes' were nothing if not practical with their emotions; she would be over this soon enough.

Mycroft stood beside her, his cold emotionless mask on, but Sherlock could easily see through that. He was mourning in his own way. He was certainly sorry for his hand in matters, the guilt bled off of him; in the worried glances he sent their Mother and his1 avoidance of John's eye. He could barely manage his big fake politician's smile when speaking to the others. Sherlock was pleased with how awkward he looked, it was no less than he deserved and Sherlock wasn't inclined to be forgiving towards Mycroft, not yet at least.

Lestrade was there too. Had he always looked so tired? Only when there was a big case he was struggling to get anywhere with. Where they that stuck at the yard without him already? No,_ this_ was the case Lestrade was puzzling over. Sherlock could just about make out him ask John's help in the matter. Of course John would be the only one he could turn to, the others at Scotland Yard would be interested only in the obvious answer; a lie that was preferable to the truth. Lestrade's loyalty warmed Sherlock's heart. Another glance over told Sherlock that Lestrade's wedding ring was still on, so obviously he was still with his wife for the moment, so he'd be eating better and having his shirts ironed for him. Other than unsolved cases, Lestrade would be just fine.

The grave was now completely covered, and the pall-bearers left, along with most the group. It was just Mrs Hudson and John left standing over his grave.

Mrs Hudson chatted away, the way she always had, unafraid to express her feelings in words. She clung to John's arm as she talked, appearing more like mother and son than his mother and Mycroft had_. In a way she was more of a mother to me_, Sherlock thought. _Less concerned about my diction, and more concerned about my person_. Even as her words vented what a bad tenant he had been, her voice revealed how she'd happily put up with it to have him back. She ended on a sob, walking away and leaving just John by his grave. Sherlock noticed the slight weave as she walked. Her hip was playing her up again, but no more than usual. After the period of mourning, she would be fine too, Sherlock decided.

Then it was just John. It was almost painful to look at him, so tired and so hurt. He looked more like the man Sherlock had first met than the man he knew. He had that lost look again, like he didn't know where his life was going anymore. The discomfort of uncertainty. The John he had come to know never looked like that. They never knew what each day would bring case-wise, what dangerous circumstances they might find themselves in, but John hadn't been uncertain then.

John started to talk almost as soon as Mrs Hudson was out of earshot. If Sherlock thought watching him was difficult, it was nothing to listening to him. The words were as painful in Sherlock's ears as they seemed to be coming out of John's mouth.

"Um. Hm. You... you told me once that you weren't a hero. Um. There were times that I didn't even think you were human. But let me tell you this, you were the best man and the most human... human being that I have ever known, and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie. And so... there." John moved forward, touching the gravestone. Sherlock briefly wondered what purpose it served, but already knew the answer. Sentiment.

"I was so alone and I owe you so much." John said with a finality to his tone that suggested he was done. But halfway away from the gravestone Sherlock saw him change his mind. What he heard next made up for everything else. "Please, there's just one more thing. One more thing. One more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't be... dead. Would you do that, just for me? Just stop it, stop this..."

Sherlock felt a weight lift from him. John had got his message. Well, part of him had. Sherlock had never expected John to believe he was a fake, that's not why he had made that part of his last message to John. He had wanted John to associate his death with fake. And it had worked, partially. John would never have said something so absurd otherwise, would he? Sherlock's jubilation at this discovery was short-lived however, as what he next saw was by far the most tragic thing he had ever seen.

John cried. He stood there, hand covering his face, at the foot of Sherlock's grave, and cried. It was less than a minute until he straightened, like the soldier he was, with a straight face, and marched away. But it was enough for Sherlock to know that he would have to keep an eye on John; that John would not be okay for a long time.

Sherlock turned to walk away. He had only gone a couple of steps when someone called to him. A visitor to the graveyard whom Sherlock hadn't noticed, but who had noticed him.

"Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?" The old man asked.

"No, I believe you are mistaken" Sherlock said, with a calm he did not feel. He quickly turned and walked away, and as soon as he was round the corner, he ran.


	6. The Taming

_AN: Hi guys! Hello and a big thanks to all my latest followers too, nice to have you onboard. You guys are in for a treat today, this is the chapter that mostly inspired this fic, particularly the title. Hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)_

**The Taming**

When Molly got home early and found Sherlock wasn't in her flat, she started to panic. He wasn't well enough to go wandering yet, and it wasn't safe! She fumbled with her phone to call him, and then remembered he no longer had his mobile, he had left it on top of Bart's when he jumped and Lestrade had taken it in as evidence. So she couldn't contact him. What else was she supposed to do? She tried to think where he might have gone, but if he was trying to track down Moriarty's men he could be anywhere in the city. Then she remembered what day it was. The funeral. Grabbing her coat again Molly ran to the door, but just before she got there, there was a loud thud against it, making her jump.

Cautiously Molly opened the door, only to have Sherlock nearly fall in on her, bent double and holding his ribs. He coughed hard, squeezing his eyes shut in pain, and a little blood came up into his palm.

"Sherlock! What happened, are you okay?" Molly said, gripping his arms to steady him and trying to take a look. He pulled away though, staggering past her.

"Might have overdone it a bit." He groaned, making his way into his bedroom and collapsing in a moaning heap on his bed.

"Where were you? What happened?" Molly asked, following after him

"Do stop with the questions, I'm in no condition to answer them now, and you're not my mother" Sherlock replied, before launching into another coughing fit and groaning again at the pain it caused to his lungs. "Painkillers, Molly. Now." He ordered

Choosing to let his comments pass, Molly quickly fetched the box with all the pre-prepared injections. She paused taking one out, noticing there were less than there should be. "Did you take one this morning, Sherlock?"

"Yes, now get on with it" Sherlock snapped, taking another deep, pained breath.

"Sorry, but you know I need to be sure the other one is out of your system before I can-" Molly started before Sherlock rudely cut her off.

"Of course it's out of my system or I wouldn't be in such bad need of another one. For a doctor you really can be dense sometimes, Molly."

Molly dropped her head, her eyes stinging with hurt from his words. He may be in pain, but there was no need for him to be so outright mean. Slowly Molly replaced the needle in the box, closing the lid.

"Oh don't be so petty, Molly" Sherlock said, seeing what see was doing "You're not honestly going to withhold the painkillers from me just because I called you dense?"

"Not_ just_ because of that." Molly said quietly. She looked up, her eyes dancing with years of supressed hurt. He voice got stronger as she continued "I have been nothing but obliging to you, Sherlock. It was bad enough when you used to be obnoxious to me back at the hospital, but not here, Sherlock, not in my own home. I'm putting myself out for you here. This medicine is an example of my kindness, so why should I give it to you when all I get is spite in return?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed "Because you're a doctor. You took an oath to help people"

"Well in this case, I think a little suffering would do you good, Sherlock Holmes." Molly declared, holding her head high as she walked out the room, taking the pain killers with her, and ignoring Sherlock's angry growl behind her. She made herself dinner, eating alone, then grabbed one of her favourite books from the shelf, settling down to read – all the while hearing and pointedly ignoring all of Sherlock's attempts to make her come back and give him the medicine. She anticipated and recognised every form of manipulation he threw at her.

First came the playing on her feelings for him. His voice laced with warmth and sweetness as he complimented her, told her what a wonderful doctor she was, and an amazing woman. He even went as far as to claim to love her, to have always loved her and that she was breaking his heart by being so cruel to him. Molly had always allowed herself to be swayed by this kind of manipulation in the past, enjoying the flattery, but not today. The point she was making was far too important to give in now.

When flattery got him nowhere Sherlock turned sour. He quickly changed from pretty lies to brutal truths, his pain making him harsher than he would usually be. He let her in on the deductions about her and her current behaviour that were most painful to hear, trying to break her. When he ran out of deductions he simply raged, shouting and swearing and demanding she stopped ignoring him. It still got him nowhere.

When the shouting made his ribs hurt too much to continue he changed tactic again. This time he made a simple appeal to her care-taking nature, sobbing and groaning in pain, quietly as if he didn't want her to hear, but just loud enough to make sure she did. The perfect volume gave him away, and Molly remained unmoved.

Finally it stopped. For a minute there was silence, and then Sherlock spoke up in his normal tones, leaving pretence behind and being utterly sincere.

"It would seem I've underestimated you again, Molly Hooper. For the second time this month. Do you want to know the first? When you told me I looked sad when John wasn't looking. I've always known you're an intelligent girl, I just never realised how much so until that moment. And now I've underestimated your strength. I've always walked all over you, but now I see that you let me. You gave in to me because you wanted to, but if you didn't want to I could never have made you, could I? You chose your battles wisely. Molly Hooper, I am sorry. Sorry I underestimated you. Sorry I didn't appreciate you as much as I should have, and sorry I treated you so abominably."

Silence fell after his apology. There was no request following, as if apologising was his sole motive, not convincing her to bring him the painkillers. For a second Molly wondered if that was a deliberate trick, a bluff to make her think he had given in, but as the silence stretched Molly was convinced he was telling the truth. He was conceding to her. And so, finally, she put her book down and went to him.

When she walked in Sherlock's eyes were closed, his breathing heavy and slightly ragged. Perhaps he had tired himself out and fallen asleep? Molly whispered his name, so as not to wake him if he was sleeping, but he wasn't. He opened his eyes, but didn't say anything. He just looked at her, waiting for her to make the next move.

"Bag of tricks ran out did it?" Molly asked to break the ice.

"I had one more up my sleeve. I decided not to use it." He told her, fixing her with a solemn gaze. "I'm done manipulating you Molly."

Molly sat on the edge of his bed, facing him "Is that a promise?"

"No. You'd only be mad at me when I break it" he replied with a crooked smile.

Molly giggled "Close enough I suppose." She watched his chest rising and falling with difficulty "Does it still hurt?"

"Yes" Sherlock said, closing his eyes. Molly immediately opened the box, took the needle out and shot the painkiller into his arm. Sherlock sighed loudly and gratefully. "Thank you"

"So are you going to tell me what happened now? Where you were?" Molly asked, turning round to take his shoes off for him, so he wouldn't have to bend for them later.

"The funeral, of course. I needed to see them all with my own eyes. They should all be okay, we might need to watch John though. Anyway, just as I was leaving someone recognised me, but thankfully couldn't place my face. I told him he was mistaken and made a quick getaway, ran all the way home. My ribs weren't ready for that level of exertion, hence the coughing and general pain" Sherlock explained.

"No, it'll be a good few weeks before they're ready for that." Molly agreed "And even then you'll have to start slowly. I'm hardly surprised you got recognised, Sherlock, especially in this coat" She added, starting to gently help him out of said coat.

"What's wrong with my coat?" Sherlock asked indignantly.

"It's just very recognisable. It's pretty much you're trademark style. It's almost as famous as the hat." Molly explained.

Sherlock grumbled something inaudible about the hat, then admitted "I suppose you're right. If I'm going to go out I will need a very different look. Perhaps it's time for a haircut too."

Molly gasped, looking at his hair lovingly, as if to say _'not the hair'_.

"It's just hair Molly. It'll grow back." Sherlock said impassively.

"I suppose" Molly admitted "Do you want me to do it now? I'm quite good with hair."

"I'm sure you are, but I would like to rest now. It's been quite a day. I need to think and rest." Sherlock said, closing his eyes again and steepling his fingers under his chin the way he found comfortable.

"Okay. Goodnight Sherlock" Molly said with a small smile. She hesitated, and then planted a small kiss on his forehead before leaving the room. Sherlock opened one eye watching her go, then went back to his musing on all that he had seen at the funeral, and the enigma that was Molly Hooper.


	7. The Haircut

_AN: Wow, I've had so many new followers and reviews since that last chapter. The feedback has been amazing, thanks guys. Here's a fun one for you. Beware, half naked and very naked Sherlock contained ;)_

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**The Haircut**

After that day, there was a definite change between Sherlock and Molly, their relationship had moved on to a new level. Molly was more confident around Sherlock, more comfortable to be herself. Of course she was still a naturally timid person, but the extra nervousness she used to have around Sherlock had disappeared. Sherlock also fell into a more relaxed state with Molly, much like the way he used to be around John, only more careful not to tease and insult her the way he had with him. He shared with her every bit of progress he made with his searches, even if it didn't mean all that much to her, and he took on board everything she said.

But Molly sensed there was something he was still holding back. Something else in him had changed since that day, and she figured it had more to do with what he had seen when he was out than what had transpired between them. There was something worrying him, something his thoughts would occasionally turn to, making him frown. Molly wanted to ask him about it, but wasn't sure when was the right moment. Thankfully, the right moment presented itself.

"You mentioned a haircut the other night," Sherlock said to her across the dinner one evening as they were finishing dinner "Would tonight be alright?"

"Why, do you have plans to go out again?" Molly asked, trying to sound light despite her worry that it was so.

"Not currently, but I see no point in waiting, do you?"

Molly wanted to say because she liked it as it was, but thought better of it. As he said, it would grow back. Besides, she remembered that she wanted to talk to him, and since having her hair brushed or touched relaxed her, she figured it might be so with Sherlock to, so it would be a good time to ask him. "Alright. Let me just get set up."

Molly went and got her special hair scissors and comb out of her bedroom, and pulled one of the kitchen chairs into the bathroom, in front of the mirror. Sherlock followed and sat down.

"You might want to, um…" Molly nodded to Sherlock's shirt.

"People don't usually take their tops off at hairdressers" Sherlock pointed out, though it sounded like a question.

"No, but they have cape things to protect your clothes from the water and loose hair. I don't, and you don't want your top to get all itchy do you?"

"No of course not."

Sherlock took off his shirt without further questioning it. Molly couldn't help her eyes lingering on his chest when he did. She'd seen him in less of course, when she was treating him after the fall, but that was different. She was in professional mode then, and his body had been black and blue with bruises. He looked much better now.

"There's no hair for you to cut there, Molly. Focus a little higher please." Sherlock smirked.

Molly blushed heavily and turned away, busying herself with getting the shower to the perfect temperature.

"Okay, if you can just lean over the tub so I can wash it" She instructed. Sherlock knelt by the bath, bending his head over the side. He winced as the position wasn't very comfortable for his ribs, so Molly made quick work of it. She gently helped him back up into the chair, gave his hair a quick rub down with a towel to get the worst of the moisture off, then went to work cutting it.

"Any particular style you want?" She asked, starting by reducing the length a bit.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her. "I just need it different. Do whatever you think."

Molly nodded, opting for a simple crop, maybe an inch or two on top and the sides slightly shorter. As she worked, she tried to figure out how she was going to broach the subject of what was bothering him.

"What's on your mind?" Sherlock suddenly asked her. Molly snapped out of her reverie, surprised to see Sherlock was watching her closely, and looking slightly frustrated. "It's clear there's something bothering you, you're never usually this quiet."

"Actually, I was wondering what's been bothering you." Molly answered, deciding to be straightforward. His surprised eyes met hers in the mirror as she continued "I've noticed you, you keep getting distracted, worrying about something, ever since you went to the funeral."

"I'm surprised you noticed. I shouldn't be. I keep forgetting how observant you are." Sherlock admitted, his reflected gaze intent on her. He gave her a small warm smile, before frowning again as he answered her question. "It's John. I've been worried about him since I saw him at the funeral, he didn't seem to be handling it well. I was hoping he'd have put more on his blog by now so I could see how he was getting on, but other than one small post straight after my faked death he seems to have abandoned it. I'm surprised his shrink hasn't been pushing him to continue it, it was part of his therapy after the war, after all."

"I didn't know." Molly said softly "I didn't know he saw a shrink."

"No, well he stopped seeing her after we moved in together. I think the action of solving cases was therapy enough for him. But he'll be seeing her again now. I think. Urg, It is so frustrating not knowing!" Sherlock growled, frowning even harder.

"Is there anything I can do?" Molly offered. She hesitated, and then added "Maybe I could go see him or talk to him."

"You don't want to" Sherlock pointed out, noticing her hesitation. "I know you hate having to lie about me being dead when people are hurting over it. And John will be the worst."

"I know, I know it will be hard and I'll hate doing it. But if you're worried about him… and I care about him too, I want to help him if I can." Molly said earnestly, the same steadfastness in her gaze as when she asked what Sherlock needed when he came to her.

Sherlock smiled at her. "What an unselfish woman you are. Please, if you could arrange to meet him to talk, it would ease my mind greatly"

Molly nodded, happy to help. "I'll text him when I'm done here" She said. It was only a few minutes till she was finished. She was pleased with the shorter style, and very pleased to see that the length she had left still had a bit of a wave to it, even if it wasn't the gorgeous curls she was used to.

"Okay, all done. What do you think?"

"It's practical" Sherlock said in his usual impassive tone, then, seeing her uncertainty at what he had meant as a compliment, he added, "It's good. Thank you"

"You're welcome" She smiled, glad he liked it. She gathered up her things and switched on the shower for him. "Okay, let me just grab a broom and sweep this up then you can get a shower."

"Your shower curtain is opaque" he commented while she was out of the room.

"What? Oh!" She said, coming back in with the broom to find he had already got in, the curtain pulled right across and his trousers slung over the curtain rail. Blushing again, she quickly swept up and left him to it. She sent a text to John and arranged to meet the next day, pleased to be able to help Sherlock find some peace of mind, but dreading the upcoming meeting.


	8. Lunch with a Friend

_AN: Hi everyone. A massive thank you to all the followers and reviews I have been receiving, it means a lot to me to have your support. I think my husband may be getting sick of me checking every 10 minutes and going "oo another follower, yay a review!" lol. Maybe I'll even get round to doing shoutouts some day soon._

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**Lunch with a Friend.**

"This isn't what I had in mind when I agreed to go meet with John for you," Molly said, watching Sherlock setting up a small hidden camera on her coat, fiddling with the position and then checking the footage on screen. "Why can't I just tell you about it when I get back?"

"Would you let Stamford do an autopsy for you?" Sherlock asked without looking up from his work.

"Of course not, I mean he's a good Doctor, but he hasn't got the specific training for… oh. I see"

"It's nothing personal Molly, but I'd rather see and hear everything myself. The exact words he uses, the exact way he says them, it's all very telling and would likely be lost in a retelling" Sherlock explained. He stopped fiddling with the camera "That should do it, it's not perfect, but it's better than nothing."

"Do I have to wear this all day?" Molly asked "I don't think I'd feel comfortable with it on at work."

"You can take it off, but don't turn it off, I don't want the connection to be reset again. Just put it in your bag and clip it back in the same place when you're ready. Oh and buzz me on the house phone when it's time, I don't need to waste time staring at the contents of your handbag, I've already deduced them and it's nothing interesting. " Sherlock instructed.

And so when lunchtime arrived, Molly went to the bathroom, fixed on the camera as well as fixing her hair and makeup, and phoned home before leaving to meet John.

She arrived at the small café just before John, choosing a seat near the window, where she could see him approaching as Sherlock had asked. He wasn't far behind her though, in fact she was surprised she hadn't seen him coming down the street. When he got in she smiled and got up, giving him a slightly awkward hug as they exchanged hellos. They took their seats and Molly took a menu, frowning when John didn't.

"Aren't you having anything?" She asked, concerned. He did look a little thinner than last she'd seen him.

"Oh, yeah." John said, turning his head to look at the menu still in the menu holder. His brows came together, and he seemed to look through it, before turning back to Molly "I'll just have whatever you have."

"Right." Molly looked up to the waitress who had been hanging back, giving them time to make up their minds. "Two all day brunches please Jenny, and a coke each"

"Trying to fatten me up?" John laughed, as the waitress nodded and scuttled off to get their drinks. Or at least his mouth laughed, his eyes told different story.

"You look like you could use it. You've lost weight." Molly said with concern.

"I hadn't noticed" John said, looking away to see if the waitress had their drinks yet.

"Are you okay?" Molly couldn't help asking "You look tired." And that was an understatement.

"Yeah I'm fine" John quickly answered "Just, work and stuff, you know."

Molly nodded, though she didn't believe him at all. Their drinks arrived, and Molly took a sip before replying. "Yeah. You still working at that little clinic?"

"Yep. That's the one. I've took on more hours there actually, now I'm not busy with… other things."

"That's good. Isn't it a bit awkward with that girl you used to date there?" Molly asked curiously.

"Sarah. No, no it's not awkward at all." John replied.

"Oh that's good. It's good that you can both be professional and put things like that behind you."

"Well I wouldn't say that. We just don't talk to each other if we can avoid it." John clarified, with a genuine smile. Molly couldn't help but laugh slightly with him. The waitress put down their food between them, and Molly tucked in.

"So, what about you?" John asked, pushing his food around on his plate a bit, but not eating "How's business down at the morgue?"

"Oh, you know, same old. Except not having your visits of course" Molly told him, referring to his visits with Sherlock of course, but not wanting to say the name. She wasn't sure John was ready. She suspected she had already said too much, as John bowed his head. He pushed his food around a bit longer before taking a small bite. His brows were furrowed, as if deep in thought.

"Why didn't you come to the funeral, Molly?" John suddenly asked, looking up at her with pleading eyes.

Molly was taken aback by his directness, but fortunately she had a readymade answer. "I work in a morgue, John. I spend all day with the dead. I don't need to go to funerals to say goodbye."

"That… makes sense. So it's not because... you know, what the papers are saying." John said awkwardly, looking down and taking another bite of food to cover his awkwardness.

"Oh, no of course not! I know - knew Sherlock too well to believe that. And I knew Jim too, remember. I know what a good actor he was, but not this Richard Brook character. And Sherlock didn't need to hire an actor, I saw him work first hand, I know he was a real genius!" Molly said vehemently, hoping to cheer John up.

"Good. Thank you, I needed to hear that." John nodded, looking at her again. He grimaced "You know, Sherlock's last request was that I tell everyone he was a fake. But I won't do it. I don't believe him, and I can't lie about him, so I won't do it. Not sure if that makes me a good friend or a bad one."

"Definitely a good one" Molly reassured him. She hadn't known Sherlock had said that, and it confused her slightly, but she filed it under 'ask him later'. "I'm not sure why he said that, but I'm sure he didn't really want you to."

"You're right. It was probably part of Moriarty's big game. I almost wish Moriarty hadn't killed himself. I wish I could get some answers out of him. And I wish… I wish I could have had the chance to kill that animal myself." John admitted bitterly.

Molly bit her lip. She and Sherlock hadn't thought about what to tell him about Moriarty. Would it be safe to tell him? Would it be safe not to, after all, if Moriarty was still alive he might go after John himself.

"What is it Molly?" John asked urgently, noticing her inner turmoil.

"Moriarty. He went missing. His body… it disappeared from the morgue on that first night." Molly told him in a hushed tone.

"You mean the body was stolen?" John asked, in the same secretive tone, leaning in closer to her in his excitement.

"I… I don't know. There was no sign of a break in, security camera's didn't get anything."

"But he was definitely dead, you had done the autopsy?" John asked in an urgent whisper.

Molly shook her head. "I… I didn't get the time; I had a lot on my plate that day. But I don't see how he could not be."

John sat back, his jaw slack and his eyes staring straight through her as he absorbed this information. "Could he have faked it?" he muttered to himself "He was smart, as smart as Sherlock. If anyone could figure out how to fake a death like that it… oh"

John's eyes went wide with a new realisation. Molly could see it in his eyes and the smile daring to tug at the corners of his lips; he had realised Sherlock could have faked his death. And it broke her heart that she would have to put a stop to it. It just wasn't safe for him to know yet. She couldn't force the lie out of her mouth though, and settled for a shake of her head, and putting her hand on his reassuringly.

John got the message, and she saw the hope instantly die from his eyes. They weren't empty like before though, there was something else there. A different hope, a darker one, burning in his eyes. Molly didn't like the look of it, but knew it was too late now.

Suddenly John got up, leaving his food only half eaten.

"Thank you Molly, it's been nice catching up." He said, giving her a small sad smile before walking away, leaving enough money on the table to cover both their meals.

Molly sat, with a cold feeling from how their conversation had turned. Her mouth suddenly felt dry, even after gulping down the rest of her drink. She couldn't finish her meal, though she'd eaten far more than John, so she left it, adding a small tip on top of the money John had left, and returned to the hospital.

In the bathroom she unclipped the camera and put it back in her bag. After checking there was no-one about to overhear she phoned her house phone. Sherlock picked up after only a couple of rings.

"Did you get all that? Was it okay?" She quickly asked.

"Yes I got it" Sherlock's voice replied.

"Was it okay that I told him about Moriarty? I didn't know if I should."

"Yes. _That_ was fine" He answered stiffly. The way he said 'that' told her there was something else though.

"What? What is it? What did I do wrong?" Molly asked nervously.

Sherlock sighed angrily "All my careful planning down the drain in one _kind_ gesture." He muttered.

Molly gasped. "I'm sorry Sherlock, I didn't mean to mess anything up" She begged "What was it, what did I do?"

"I'll talk to you back at the flat" he told her curtly, hanging up the phone.

Molly dropped her phone back into her bag with shaking hands, gulping at the lump in her throat. She took a couple of big breaths, trying to calm the panic, then stepped out, back to the safety of her morgue, where she could hopefully distract herself enough to keep her sane until it was time to go home and face the music.


	9. Feedback

**Feedback**

By the time Molly had walked home she had worked herself into a right state over what had happened, even though she wasn't sure exactly what had happened. Tears streamed down her face, her breath hitched unevenly with sobs and her hand shook as she tried to put her key in the door to her flat. When she managed to let herself in she saw Sherlock on her sofa frowning at his laptop, and the sight just made her worse. He briefly looked up on hearing her entering, and then did a double take when he saw her in tears.

"Molly? What's wrong? Has something happened?" He asked, dropping his hands from the keyboard and sitting up to face her.

"I'm so sorry I let you and John down, Sherlock" She sobbed "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean too. Please forgive me, I'll do anything to fix it, I Promise"

"Oh. That" Sherlock said, the worry in his face disappearing, and being replaced by his usual icy mask. "There is nothing you can do to fix it now, Molly, it's too late. Now get a hold of yourself, I can't walk you through this afternoon while you're crying."

Molly tried to get it together, but really his words just made her worse, and she burst into noisier tears. Sherlock sighed. He knew what she needed, but usually he left that stuff to someone else, while he got on with whatever needed doing. But there was no-one else, so it was down to him. Molly flinched back slightly as he got up huffily, but was pleasantly surprised when he wrapped his arms around her, giving her a somewhat awkward hug. It did the trick of reassuring her, and she soon stopped crying.

"That's better" Sherlock said, letting her go and smoothing down his shirt unaffectedly. He went back to his laptop and gestured for her to join him. "Now, I recorded your meeting this afternoon so I could explain John's behaviour better to you. " He clicked play on the video as she sat down next to him. It was her view as she'd walked down towards the café this afternoon, except black and white and a little pixelated. "You see John wasn't anywhere on the street as you walked up, no taxi's pulling up, and yet he gets to the restaurant only a few seconds after you."

"I noticed that. So where was he then?" Molly asked. If he was pointing it out, he clearly had an answer.

"Well look at the angle he's coming in at when he enters. Not either side, straight across. He was at another café over the road. Being cautious for whatever reason. I assume it's Mycroft he's avoiding, but I could be wrong."

The camera was almost obscured by Molly picking up the menu, but thankfully John's face was just visible over it.

"You were right that he's lost weight, he clearly hasn't been looking after himself, he has no appetite, which is fairly common when someone is mourning, but it should have returned by now. Most people with eating disorders are people trying to take control of something, feeling there's too much in their life they can't control. That would make sense with John, but it's not that because it's not deliberate, he's not focused on it, in fact quite the opposite; he simply has no interest in it. He doesn't object when you tell him he should have something, but doesn't care what, he looked at the menu, but didn't care enough to choose, so went with your choice. He doesn't want to worry you though, that's why he makes light of it. You know, you needn't have worried about having to lie to him; he doesn't hesitate to lie to you. And again, claiming his tiredness is due to work when the dark circles around his eyes are clear evidence of lack of sleep."

"I realised that" Molly told him.

"I assumed you would. But you didn't call him on it, and it wasn't distraction with your drink. I understand why, you called him on his food and didn't want to come across too pushy. For future reference, he could use the push. He's a man, he won't talk about his feelings voluntarily, but he does trust you enough to confide if you ask him. Oh and look, another lie. He's quick to correct you on Sarah's name, she's been on his mind, so it is still awkward between them. He says they don't talk if they can avoid it, it's not just her avoiding him now, as would be expected after that kind of break-up, it's mutual. She must have said something to upset him."

"About you?" Molly guessed.

Sherlock paused, pursing his lips "Possibly" He knew how unquaveringly loyal John could be, particularly when it came to what people thought of Sherlock, though he would never understand it. "Either way he makes light of it again, to hide his real feelings and then deflects the attention on to you, he doesn't want to talk about how he's doing anymore. Of course this raises the issue of me. He's been meaning to ask you why you wasn't at the funeral since he got there, but is unsure about how to word it without sounding accusatory. Good answer by the way." Sherlock's commentary falls silent as John bares his soul about how he couldn't believe Sherlock was a fake.

"Why did you say that stuff Sherlock?" Molly asked quietly.

Sherlock turned to look at her completely, his eyes intent and serious. "I was planting an idea in his head. I made it sound like I was saying_ I_ was a fake, but I was actually speaking about _what I was about to do_, and counting on the fact he would never believe the former to help him make the connection. It was working too; at the funeral he asked my gravestone for me to 'stop being dead'. And then, right here…" he gestured back to the screen. They were in the middle of the conversation about Moriarty. John asked about the autopsy, she told him she hadn't done it and then he lent back, the connection's being made in his brain until: "_If anyone could figure out how to fake a death like that it… oh"_

Molly closed her eyes, knowing what she had done wrong, not wanting to see herself putting her hand on Johns and eradicating that thought. "You said it wasn't safe for him to know you were alive" She said, with pain in her voice.

"Not safe for him to know, but he could always hope." Sherlock replied gently. "Hope could help him through the tough times, hope would make it easier for him to accept my return when it happens."

Molly nodded in understanding, silent tears rolling down her cheeks again. Sherlock stopped the video and put his arm around her again.

"Don't cry Molly. It's not your fault anyway. It was wrong of me to blame you on the phone. It was just bad timing for John to make the connection then. When he realised you had 3 choices. Confirm it, deny it or do nothing. Confirming it would put his life in danger, and doing nothing would be as good as confirming it. Denying it might have killed his hope and ruined my plan, but at least it keeps him safe."

"Does it? The look in his eyes after I did it Sherlock…" Molly sniffed.

"I know, I saw it too. The determined set of his jaw, his soldiers posture as he stood, his quick exit. I know he was thinking of tracking down Moriarty. But he won't get close to finding him, Moriarty's too good for that. And if John doesn't get anywhere close in his searching, Moriarty won't view him as a threat to be eliminated the way he did with me. Looking will give John the purpose he lacked, but won't put him in harm's way. This could be best for him." Sherlock gave Molly one last squeeze, then let go, picking up his laptop again to continue his own searching.

"And if it's not?" Molly asked.

Sherlock's fingers stopped moving on the keyboard. "We'll keep an eye on him" he said, and then resume his typing.

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_AN: And since this chapter is called feedback, its only fair I give you guys some. A big thanks to all my readers, and to my followers old and new for their continued support. And to those who leave me reviews: siriuslylivv, superlc529, AdahlenMahariel, Rocking the Redhead (love that username), Renaissancebooklover108, Anatomydoc, LadyK1138, crooney83, Shaida01, Starship221bBagEnd, apedarling, Syblime, and that guest without an account who also likes to pipe in. Your feedback is the highlight of my day, I love hearing from you. So keep the reviews coming and I'll keep the chapters coming. :D _

_Am thinking about doing some cover art for this, but am not really sure what to do. I'd love to have some cute Sherlolly fanart, but I suck at that kind of art, lol. Plus it would take me hours and I need that time to write, lol. Let me know if you have any quick easy ideas for cover art, or any tips at all._


	10. Chapter 10

**Self-Esteem**

Many weeks passed. Molly visited Mrs Hudson weekly and had lunch again one time with John to see how they were getting on. Mrs Hudson always enjoyed her visits, but things were still a little awkward with John. Sherlock had completely healed from the fall, and was even starting to supplement his research with trips out the house for a few hours, which always made Molly nervous. He tried to ease her mind by slipping out when she wouldn't notice, but she could always tell by the extra brightness in his eyes. He hated being cooped up and a little field work always made him happier. Other than that, their routine was still a very comfortable one. There was only one time and place they clashed. The bathroom; Sunday mornings in particular.

"Molly it's been 53 minutes. That's nearly twice as long as you usually spend in the bathroom, and you know I always use it after you." Sherlock called through the door, waiting in his dressing gown for use of the shower.

"On a weekday!" Molly called back. "It's Sunday, it's been a long week and I'm _trying_ to have a nice relaxing soak."

Sherlock sighed loudly, leaning up against the wall outside in a huff. He didn't have to say anything more though, as Molly's peace had already been disturbed enough to make her give up on the bath. It was getting a bit cold now anyway. Pulling the plug, Molly got out of the bath, gave her hair a quick towel dry, wrapped a towel around herself and exited the bathroom.

"Finally" Sherlock muttered, darting straight in after her and closing the door. Or at least trying to close the door. Molly was pulled to a stop by her towel, caught on the inside door handle.

"Sherlock! My towel…" Molly started, but stopped abruptly when Sherlock roughly pulled the door back open to investigate, causing her towel to be ripped away with it, leaving Molly standing before him in as much clothing as she was born in. Not exactly the way she had always imagined the moment.

Molly's eyes went wide like a deer caught in the headlights. She was so shocked it took her a few seconds to remember to cover herself with her hands. It was unnecessary however, as in those tense few seconds, Sherlock's eyes didn't stray anywhere south of her face. He blinked, then calmly turned, unhooked her towel from the door handle and handed it back to her, his eyes returning once more to her face and no-where else.

"Thank you" Molly said in a small voice, tentatively taking the towel and quickly covering herself with it, as Sherlock disappeared once again into the bathroom. She quickly retreated to her bedroom after that, falling back onto the bed and covering her face, feeling completely humiliated.

She wasn't sure which was worse, the embarrassment of having lost her towel in from of _Sherlock Holmes._ Or the blow to her self-esteem that he hadn't even found it difficult to keep his eyes away from her exposed body. There were other reasons why he might not have looked, his upbringing, the way he focused on his cases and nothing else, his general disinterest in dating… some said he was gay, but Molly didn't think that was true.

She remembered the body she had shown him in the morgue that dreadful Christmas, supposedly that of Irene Adler. According to John, Sherlock had been taken by surprise by her nudity too, but that hadn't stopped him getting a good enough look at her body to identify her by it. But then Irene Adler was an attractive woman, and a small part of Molly couldn't help thinking that that was the real reason Sherlock hadn't looked when she lost her towel. He just didn't find her attractive.

With tears running down her cheeks Molly stood in front of her full length dress mirror and looked at herself. She was no model, but she didn't think she was that unattractive. Sure she was a little short, and as Sherlock had once pointed out, her breasts were a little on the small side, but she wasn't overweight or anything. She was nothing special, but she wasn't hideous either.

Not wanting to think about it any longer, Molly got dressed and dried her hair. She didn't feel ready to face Sherlock again yet though, so decided to spend the day in her room, re-organising her wardrobe (something she'd been meaning to do for a while anyway), getting caught up on the latest medical journals, and finally just relaxing with one of her favourite books. Eventually though, her stomach reminded her she could hide no longer. It was bad enough that she had skipped lunch; she would have to go out to fix dinner.

She avoided looking at Sherlock as she went out into the main living area of her flat, but she knew he was there, on the sofa with his laptop as he always was. She could feel his eyes following her as she moved about the kitchen too, and kept her back to him so he wouldn't be able to see her blush. She was relieved when eventually his eyes fell away. She threw together a nice light chicken and pasta salad and sat down to eat, surprised and slightly relieved that Sherlock came straight over without needing her to call him. She still couldn't meet his eye however, as he sat across from her.

Sherlock was never a fan of uncomfortable silences, unless he was using them as an interrogation technique, so it was less than a minute before he poked at the elephant in the room.

"Molly. I understand you are embarrassed about what happened earlier, but there really is no need. And the particularly low-calorie meal you chose in reaction is really unnecessary too, you are not even slightly overweight." Sherlock informed her, supposedly to comfort her.

"Not that you'd know" Molly couldn't help but mutter, frowning at her plate.

Sherlock's fork hand slowly fell from his face before he took a bite of what it contained, as he contemplated her response. Molly gave him a quick glance, seeing him staring at her with a slight tilt to his head, his eyes moving ever so slightly as he tried to deduce what was bothering her.

"You're… upset… that I _didn't_ look?" he spoke his calculation cautiously, hardly believing it could be true, but having come up with no other possibilities.

"It's okay. I know I'm not as attractive as Mrs Adler was." Molly muttered in a tone that suggested it was really not okay.

At this Sherlock really was taken aback, sitting more upright in his chair. His brows came together as he tried to understand this new curve-ball she had thrown him.

"I gave no thought to a comparison." He started, before the pieces started to slot together. "But clearly you have. Molly the circumstances are completely different. Irene presented herself to me, inviting me to look at her. But with what happened earlier, you lost your towel completely by accident. You weren't inviting me to look, so it would have been entirely improper of me to."

Molly looked up shyly, a hint of chagrin staining her cheeks. "I suppose so." She admitted. "I guess I am being silly. I just… it was so easy for you not to look, I couldn't help thinking it was because you didn't want to, because I wasn't attractive enough."

"Molly," Sherlock chided "I may be a higher-functioning sociopath who considers himself married to his work, but I am also a man. I wanted to, and it certainly was not easy."

The pink stain on Molly's cheeks turned deep scarlet and she again dropped her eyes to her meal, but this time there was a small smile on her face instead of a frown, and it was a good kind of embarrassed.

The rest of the evening passed in a lot more normal fashion; Sherlock filled Molly in on his latest breakthroughs while they finished eating, then went back to his laptop while Molly did the washing up, then joined him on the sofa to watch some TV before bed. Nothing more was said about the bathroom incident, until they both headed off to their bedrooms for the night.

"Goodnight Sherlock" Molly said, opening her bedroom door, about to go in.

"Goodnight Molly." Sherlock said, pausing outside his "And by the way, nice birthmark."

He disappeared into his room, leaving Molly standing in the hallway with wide eyes and red cheeks. Her birthmark was a kind of misshapen heart, just below her right breast. Sherlock _had_ looked, he just hadn't let himself get caught looking.


	11. Dangerous

_AN: Before we get started, I just want to say how __priceless__ your reviews were on my last chapter. Some of them proper cracked me up (I'm looking at you Renaissancebooklover108 and Kathmak). I'm glad you enjoyed that one as much as I did. And so, on with the next chapter._

* * *

**Dangerous**

Today was a little out the ordinary for Molly. There was a new doctor in her wing of the hospital, and he had invited everyone out for dinner and drinks after his first day. It had been a while since Molly had been out to this kind of thing, so she eagerly accepted. She text Sherlock (Molly had got him a cheap pay as you go phone for easier contact) to let him know she's be back late, and went out for a very enjoyable evening. The new doctor was nice, and the restaurant he chose did great food. Molly would have to remember to come back here some time. It wasn't far from where she lived either, only about 15 minutes on foot.

It was gone 10 o'clock when Molly left. The others were staying drinking a bit longer, but Molly had never been much of a drinker. She'd had a few glasses of wine, but then stuck to water for the rest of the night. This spring was a warm one, and the night's air still held the warmth of the day, so Molly decided to walk home, rather than take a cab.

She was within sight of her apartment when she saw a rowdy bunch of men ahead of her crossing the road to her side. _Probably nothing to worry about_ she told herself, keeping her head down and walking a bit quicker, _they're probably just a nice bunch of guys on their way home from dinner like I am._ She was coming up to them now, about to go past them, but almost bumped into one as he stepped in front of her.

"Excuse me" She mumbled, going to step around, but again he stepped in her way. Him and his mates laughed, and she looked up to see they had surrounded her, one in front, one to the side and one behind her. Her heart began to accelerate.

"Where's a pretty little thing like you going on a night like this, all alone?" The one in front of her asked mockingly. His friends laughed again, eyeing her hungrily.

"I just want to go home." Molly answered, trying not to sound too frightened, despite the fact she was trembling.

"Aww, isn't that sweet. Well you can go home… once we've finished with you" The one beside her said. He stepped right into her personal space. Molly took a deep breath, but didn't back away, as the only way she could move was back towards a wall, and she had no interest in getting herself pinned. Her eyes darted about, desperately trying to think of a way out.

"Not easily intimidated huh? We'll just have to do it like this then." He nodded to his mates and they each grabbed one of her arms, holding her still as she squirmed and kicked. One put a hand over her mouth as she started to yell. "Still think you can get away? Overconfident little girl, thinking you can walk the streets of London at night and nothing will happen to you. Someone needs to teach you a lesson."

He stepped closer, reaching for his pants. Molly fought harder, determined not to let this happen, but the men grasping her arms had her too tightly. Suddenly she had an idea. Using their hold on her arms as support she swung both her legs forward, kicking the man before her in the chest with both feet and all her strength. She managed to knock him clean off his feet, all the air whooshing from his lungs. She got her feet back under her just in time, as one of the others dropped her arm in surprise. She didn't waste a second, pivoting and slamming her fist into the last man's face. His head knocked back and he let go for the briefest second, but he recovered quickly, grabbing her again and slamming her into the wall.

"Nice try girly, but you're going to regret it." He told her, slamming her back into the wall again as she struggled. The others crowded around, the one she had kicked already back on his feet and looking angry.

"Leave her alone" A voice spoke out of the shadows, a deep, articulate and ice cold voice, that despite its threatening tone, Molly couldn't be more glad to hear. The men holding her turned to look, and through the small gap their movement created, Molly could see him, wearing one of the hoodies she had bought him, the hood up casting shadow on his emotionless face.

"And what if we don't?" The man she had kicked replied cockily, reaching for her breast to make a point.

It never made contact; Sherlock knocked the man out in one swift blow to the temple, for even daring to think it. Emotionless mask having not so much as flickered in his attack, he now raised one eyebrow in challenge to the other men. Without hesitation they let go of Molly, launching themselves at Sherlock.

Sherlock had been in fights before. Usually he preferred one on one, but he could handle a group as well. Of course Molly had no idea what he was capable of, and feared for him, grabbing the arm of the one who had been holding her, and attempting to hold him back from attacking Sherlock.

"Don't worry sweetheart, we'll be back for you" he said, harshly shoving her off him and to the ground, causing her to hit her head on the concrete. The man turned back to the fight and was met by Sherlock's fist. Another precision strike that immediately floored the man.

Licking the blood from a split lip he had earned in the fight, Sherlock looked down at the man in disgust. Molly was shocked by the violence in his cold stare, which suggested he'd like to do a lot more to punish these men. Molly had always known there was an aspect of darkness to Sherlock, but she'd never before realised how _dangerous_ he could be. She was all at once terrified, thrilled and comforted by it. It all passed in a moment though, as Sherlock decided he had a higher priority than the men he had taken down. He turned to Molly, holding his hand out to her to help her up.

"I…I'm fine" She stuttered as he pulled her to his feet.

"No you're not." Sherlock replied firmly, his voice even deeper than normal and brooking no argument. He put a protective arm around her and walked her home.


	12. Mixed up Emotions

**Mixed up Emotions**

The pair were silent as they walked to her apartment. Without asking, Sherlock reached into her bag, pulling out the key and letting them in. He guided Molly to the sofa.

"Sit" He direct her, releasing his protective hold and moving into her kitchen. Molly sat obediently, taking big breaths. Her head hurt. She felt a tickle on her face, and reached a shaking hand up to it, surprised to find tears making tracks down her cheeks. She was crying and hadn't even realised. Sherlock put a glass of water on the coffee table in front of her, making her jump slightly. He stilled, watching her carefully for a second, then sat sideways next to her on the sofa.

"Let me look." He asked gently, putting his hand on her shoulder and gently turning her. Obediently Molly turned her head, letting him inspect the bump on the back with light fingers.

"I feel fine" Molly said, he shaky voice betraying her. Sherlock let go of her shoulder, allowing her to turn back. He leaned round to look into her eyes. After the examination he sat back more comfortably next to her.

"No concussion, but you're not _fine_ Molly, you're traumatized, and slightly in shock. Drink the water." Sherlock insisted.

Obediently Molly sat forward, gulping down the whole glass. It had a slightly bitter taste at the end, and she realised Sherlock had put one of her water-soluble headache pills in it. She was surprised by his thoughtfulness. She was even more surprised when she leaned back to find Sherlock's arm behind her. He gently pulled her to lean on his shoulder, picking up the icepack she hadn't noticed he'd bought with him and passing it to his other hand behind her head, holding it against the bump. The cold shocked her at first, but then she felt the soothing effects of it and was glad he had bought it over. She relaxed in his embrace, getting better control of her shaking body and scattered emotions.

"It was stupid of you to walk home alone at this time of night Molly." Sherlock broke the silence "I dread to think what else could have happened to you. Or what would have happened had I not stepped in"

"How did you know I was in trouble?" Molly asked curiously.

"You were within sight of the apartment. I was looking out waiting for your return. I knew the men for what they were when I saw down the other end of the street, when they crossed to your side of the street…" Sherlock paused, seemly struggling with his emotions "I knew you would need me. I grabbed my hoodie and ran straight out. I saw you fighting them before I got there, it was an impressive attempt, but foolish none-the-less."

Molly couldn't help but smile, his concern for her warming her from the inside out. Especially one point in particular. "You were looking out for my return?"

Sherlock frowned. It was a few seconds before he responded. "John used to come and go all the time, I barely noticed when and didn't care where. But you Molly, you're a creature of habit. After work you come home, feed the cat, make dinner, do the washing up then watch TV, or read depending on the night, until it's time for bed, which would usually be half an hour ago. I've grown accustomed to this routine. So when you do something different it's like… a leaky tap or wonky picture frame. A constant irritation, distracting me until order is returned. The later you stayed out the more distracted I became, so yes, I ended up just waiting for you to return, so I could concentrate again."

Molly listened to his explanation, but his reasoning didn't really matter to her. What mattered was that he had been waiting for her to return. What mattered was that he had been concerned for her, before when he realised what was about to happen, and after as he took such good care of her. What mattered was that he had faced down 3 men to rescue her. Her attention went once again to the split lip he had as a result. She shifted round on the sofa to face him better.

"Your lip. It hasn't been taken care of yet." She said softly.

"It's a minor injury. It will heal on its own just fine." Sherlock said dismissively.

Molly couldn't stop staring at his lip though. The evidence of his care for her. Evidence that gave her hope. Her heightened emotions from her trauma combined with the small amount of alcohol still in her blood from her night out made her both needy and bold enough to take what she needed. She leaned into him, her hand splaying out on his chest as she brought her lips to his, kissing him gently enough to be kind to his damaged lip, but intensely enough to show him her feelings.

Sherlock's lips had made no response to her own, but when Molly opened her eyes and saw Sherlock's eyes were closed she hoped that he might have enjoyed it. Her hopes were dashed when he sighed tiredly and opened his eyes with a pitying gaze. He gently plucked her hand off his chest, pulling his arm out from behind her and creating a little space between them. "I understand with all that has happened tonight your emotions are clearly running high and clouding your judgement. But I am also aware that your desire for me is hardly anything new, so I guess it's time to be straight with you, Molly." Sherlock started. His face had been downcast as he uttered these sentences, but with a sigh he bought his eyes up to hers, watching her carefully to make sure she fully understood. "I consider myself as being married to my job. The cases are all there is to me, there is no room in my life for a romantic relationship. Ours is a working relationship and I think it best not to confuse the matters."

Molly stared back at him sorrowfully. She looked down, thinking, then lifted her eyes again, about to speak, about to argue his words. Sherlock cut her off before she could.

"Please, Molly. Just leave it at that. It's been a long day for us both, but you especially. I suggest you go to bed."

Molly sighed and nodded, getting up and heading to her bedroom. She paused outside the door.

"I'll leave it for now Sherlock. But just so you know, I don't believe you." She turned to enter her room when Sherlock's voice called her up short.

"Don't believe what?"

Molly considered answering, but then decided it would be better to let him figure it out himself.

"Goodnight Sherlock"

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_AN: Because its been a while since I've said it, Hello to all my new readers and followers, and a huge thanks to everone for your support and the reviews that I love reading so much._


	13. The Morning After

**The Morning After.**

Sherlock didn't sleep that night. He had barely got anything done that day afternoon, due to Molly's absence, and wanted to catch up the time he had missed. He still didn't get much done however, as he was still just as distracted by Molly as he had been earlier in the evening. If not more so. The image of her surrounded by those men haunted him. Part of him wanted to go out there and find them to punish them better, but he kept himself in control. And then there was the kiss. Her kiss lingered in his memory, no matter how hard he tried to delete it. And her reaction to his rejection mystified him completely. Given his knowledge of her character and the strength of her crush he had expected her to be a lot more upset by it. Instead she had acted as if there had been no rejection at all. She said she didn't believe him, what exactly did she mean by that? The questions begged to be answered like an unsolved case, drawing his mind away from what he was supposed to be doing.

Before he knew it, the sun was rising. Molly would be up soon to get ready for work, and Sherlock fully expected there to be some awkwardness between them. He was stunned to find he was wrong again, as she emerged from her bedroom with a bright smile and a chirpy "Morning, Sherlock" before disappearing once again into the bathroom. After the normal amount of time she emerged again, calling "Bathrooms free!" and going back into her room to get dressed.

Sherlock didn't know what to make of it. The only possible explanation in his mind was denial. That must be it. The previous night had taken such a toll on her mental state that she had blotted it out and acting like nothing had happened to save the pain. And if she was going to act normal about it, Sherlock supposed the best way he could help her would be to act normal too. Therefore he shut his laptop and got up, going to the bathroom for a quick shower, as he always did after Molly finished.

When Sherlock emerged from the bathroom Molly was making breakfast, as she usually was, but there was something different about her, completely throwing his denial theory out the window. Her hair wasn't in its usual ponytail, instead it was in a more elegant twist at the back of her head, with some kind of fancy pin holding it in place. And the jumper she wore, not one Sherlock had ever seen her in before, was snugger than her others, showcasing her shape far better. It was only a few simple changes, but to Sherlock it was a huge difference. It was a more confident look, slightly more sensual.

Which was _completely _wrong after what she had gone through the previous night. After an attack like that a woman would usually feel violated, feeling the need to hide their figure under layers or baggy clothes to protect themselves. Add Sherlock's rejection to that and her confidence should have flown out the window. Yet here he was behaving in the exact **opposite **manner to what would be expected.

Molly finished her cooking and turned around, holding two plates of pancakes. "Oh good, you're finished, pancakes are ready" She said, smiling at him and setting the plates down. Still thoroughly confused Sherlock went over, sitting opposite and studying her closely as she ate her pancakes. She didn't seem to notice.

"So, an all-nighter huh?" She said, looking up at him then nodding to his laptop on the table "You get a good lead?"

"No, actually." Sherlock replied, "Just making up for lost time last night. Molly are you alright?" he couldn't stop himself asking. Every second the mystery of her behaviour went unsolved drove him crazy.

"Yeah I'm fine. Why?" Molly asked, sounding far too genuine for Sherlock's comfort.

"You were attacked last night." He bluntly reminded her. "You were nearly raped. You shouldn't be this happy and confident the day after."

Molly sobered up a bit, slowly chewing and swallowing her food before answering. "Nearly. You saved me"

"Yes, and then you kissed me and I rejected you. Even more reason why you shouldn't be so chipper this morning." Sherlock pushed.

A small smile crept up Molly's cheek. "Upset I'm not more torn up by your rejection, Sherlock?" She teased, blushing at her own boldness.

"No! Of course not, I'm just trying to make sense of it." Sherlock practically spluttered.

"There's nothing to make sense of. I worked my emotions out in the night and it's a new day so I'm putting it behind me and getting on with my life." Molly explained, finishing her pancakes and putting her plate over by the sink. "Anyway, it's time for me to get going. See you later" She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, walking out before Sherlock had a chance to respond. Not that he had a response; for once, he was speechless.

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_AN: Sorry it's such a short one, it was going to be part of the next chapter, but it ended up so long I decided to cut it in half. Well not exactly in half, this one is shorter and the other one longer, it was just the best place to leave it. I'll post the other half tomorrow, as always ;) Still loving your reviews, keep them coming, and greetings to my new followers._


	14. Truth and Lies

**Truth and Lies**

Molly couldn't hold back a giggle when she left at how thoroughly confused Sherlock had been by her behaviour. She knew he was right, after what happened she should be more subdued, but she knew something he didn't. She _had_ been torn up by his rejection at first, of course she had. But with all the evidence presented to her, she knew Sherlock's reasons for rejecting her were not at all watertight.

First his excuse about the cases being all there was to him. Molly knew that to be true, but that didn't mean he had to be alone. After all, before the fall he had been constantly including John in his cases. And Molly had always been there for him in the lab. If he was with someone like her, someone who he could include in his work, then it wouldn't be a problem.

Second the excuse that he had no room in his life for it. He didn't even realise how much he had made room in his life for Molly as it was. He had admitted himself earlier that night that he was almost dependant on her routine. From what she had heard before he rarely used to make time for things like eating and sleeping, but since he'd been with her he had been regular in both, thanks to _her_ routine. Of course when he was able to go out in the field on cases again it would be different, but it was still proof that he could make room in his life for another, structure his life around them if he so wished.

Lastly his assertion that theirs was a _working relationship_, and that they shouldn't confuse matters. Before the fall it may have been a working relationship, but it certainly had moved on from that now, no matter what he said. They were friends in the least, if not something more. His actions last night proved it. The ferocity with which he defended her. The extreme care he took with her when he got her back to the flat. There was genuine care for her in all his actions. She didn't believe he saw her just as a work colleague. She _counted_ as he had once told her.

They were all just lines he was hiding behind. She could clearly see the truth of the matter that he just wasn't ready for that kind of relationship yet. He was scared for whatever reason to open himself up to that kind of intimacy with another human being. But Molly was patient. He had come so far already in her care, and she had high hopes she could get him the rest of the way. It was a hope that before the previous night she would never have dared entertain, but now she had it, and it was a powerfully good feeling, enough to overshadow all the pain of the previous night.

The knowledge of how changes in her routine affected him was a particularly empowering to Molly. That day she texted John, suggesting another meet up after work to see how he was doing. She didn't text Sherlock. Perhaps a little more worrying about her would help him see his true feelings.

What she didn't anticipate though, (and in hindsight, probably should have) was the constant buzzing of her phone, all through her meeting with John. She could feel the constant steam of texts and phone calls in her pocket, but daren't answer in case John heard Sherlock's voice on the other end of the line. She tried to ignore it, but eventually John spoke up about it.

"Don't you need to get that?" he asked, nodding to her pocket.

"Oh it's nothing important" Molly tried to brush it off nervously.

"Sounds like it's important to whoever is on the other end." John pointed out. "Honestly I don't mind if you need to take it."

Molly deliberated for a second, then pulled out her phone, rejecting the call and sending a quick text after it, careful not to let John see what she was typing.

_I'm with John. Can't answer phone. Talk later. X_

"That's better" She said with a smile to John.

"Who was it? Some overprotective new boyfriend you didn't tell where you were going?" John asked.

Molly blushed, shocked by how close he was. Not as shocked as he would be if he knew the truth.

"No. I wish, I'm not seeing… anyway, it was just my nephews. They just got their first mobiles and have been prank calling me all day. I threatened to tell their mum, that should put a stop to it." She said with a slightly nervous giggle.

"Right" John smiled. She wasn't sure he believed her, but moved on quickly.

* * *

"Why did you arrange a meeting with John without telling me?!" Sherlock demanded as soon as Molly got home. He had his back to her, standing by the window. He had been looking out for her again.

Thankfully Molly had anticipated this question and had a readymade excuse. It was mostly true, which was good because lying to Sherlock was near impossible. "Sorry. It was just kind of a spontaneous thing, I texted him today while it was quiet and then before I even got a response everything went crazy, there was some accident on the M25, 3 dead before the ambulances got there-"

"The news report said 4 dead" Sherlock interjected.

Molly nodded, a genuine sadness creeping over her features for a seconds as she remembered. "She died later. The little girl. She was still alive when they got her to the hospital, she went to intensive care first but… she didn't pull through. We got her after." Molly was well used to death in the morgue, but it was that bit harder to remain unaffected when it was a child. She took a big breath then continued "By the time I got away I was worried about keeping John waiting. With everything I guess I forgot to let you know. I'm sorry if I worried you."

Sherlock was silent, still staring out the window for a few seconds. Or at least she thought he was looking out the window, he was actually watching her reflection in the glass. Finally he turned around with a sigh.

"How is John?"

Molly was relieved he hadn't caught her out in her lie, or if he had, he hadn't said. She tried not to show it though, concentrating on remembering the conversation with John as she took off her shoes and coat.

"Not good. He was still slightly hungover from drinking last night."

"A night out with Stamford?" Sherlock asked, though he sounded doubtful.

"That's what he claimed, but I happen to know that Stamford is out of town for the week visiting family in Cornwall. And I could see the signs that this is frequent, his hands were shaking slightly, his eyes were redder than they would be after a single incident." She explained, filling the cats bowl then digging in the fridge for ingredients for dinner.

"Excellent observations, Molly, I'm impressed" Sherlock commended her "But I suppose you didn't say anything, you never do."

"Actually, I did" Molly corrected him.

Sherlock rose his eyebrows in surprise "Well aren't you feeling bold today?" He commented, eyeing her new dress style again. The change in her was most disconcerting. "How did John react to that?"

"He opened up completely." Molly said, sounding very worried. "You were right, he's obsessed with trying to find Moriarty, with no concern for his own safety. Thankfully he's not been able to find any sign of him, but it's driving him crazy that he can't. That's why he's been drinking, trying to drown it out. He feels terrible about it because he says he's dragging his sister down with him."

Sherlock nodded "I knew it would happen when he moved in with her. Has he given up on his shrink then?"

"No, he says he's still seeing her. Doesn't seem to be helping though. He has a diary now instead of his blog, that's why he hasn't been updating. Although he says he's not very good at updating the diary either."

"Well there's no point if it's not working is there?" Sherlock quickly pointed out.

Molly nodded glumly. "What are we going to do about him, Sherlock?"

Sherlock sat down, opening his laptop and getting to work. "I need to work faster at bringing down Moriarty's network. John misses this life and the sooner I can ensure his safety, the sooner I can bring him back into it."

Molly nodded. "And what can I do?" She asked in a small but earnest voice.

Sherlock stopped for a second, looking at her over his laptop.

"Stop distracting me."

* * *

_AN: wow, 50 followers. Thank you so much, every one of you, it is an honor to have you all reading my story. :)_


	15. Date Night

**Date Night**

For the next few weeks Molly did her best to accommodate Sherlock's work and not distract him. Sherlock had taken to doing all his computer work in his room where he would be less easily distracted too. Molly took his meals in there to him rather than pull him away to the kitchen. She tried to stick to her normal routine, however she couldn't just put a total stop to any kind of social life, so when the new doctor at Bart's asked her out on a date she didn't decline it, but sent a text to Sherlock to let him know she'd be out late.

_Have a date tonight. Will be popping back to get changed first, did you want me to grab you a takeaway? X_

The reply came quickly.

_Chinese. From the Red Sun. Send me a picture of your potential date. – SH_

Molly frowned at his request.

_You want to deduce him don't you? Please Sherlock, I don't want to play this game. Let me make up my own mind X_

Again he replied straight away

_Let me just make sure he's safe. I won't tell you anything else if you don't want me too. – SH_

Molly was touched by his concern, so she did as he asked, getting a sneaky picture on her phone as she passed his lab on her way to get a coffee. She sent it and waited for his reply.

_Enjoy your date. Don't forget the Chinese and for goodness' sake get a cab home, don't walk. – SH_

Molly smiled reading the text. She rolled her eyes at the last bit though. Hopefully she wouldn't need a cab, she'd have a lift home. Not that she planned on inviting him in, but this guy was a proper gentleman she could tell, and wouldn't dream of letting her walk or take a cab. She let her mind drift to what dress she would wear and how she imagined the date would go.

Molly slammed the door, coming back from her date only half hour after she left. She kicked off her heels angrily.

"Had a recent break-up with his girlfriend, was using you to make her jealous?" Sherlock said without looking up from his laptop on the sofa.

"She was our waitress. _They_ got in a big fight and **I** walked out." Molly huffed "You could have warned me!"

"You didn't want me to, you wanted to make up your own mind. There's ice cream in the freezer." Sherlock announced.

Ice cream sounded perfect about now. Molly went to the freezer to investigate and found a carton of Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie and felt better just looking at it. She grabbed a spoon out the drawer and dug straight in, not bothering with a bowl.

"Mmm. How did you know I would want ice cream?"

"It's a well-known fact that women like to comfort eat after some kind of disappointment from a man. 60% prefer chocolate, the rest ice cream. I figured that covered all the bases."

"It's perfect, thank you" Molly agreed, coming to sit beside him on the sofa. "Mind if I watch telly?"

"It's your living room" Sherlock replied without emotion.

Molly took it for a 'not at all' and switched on the TV, flicking through channels for something to watch. She found a film just starting, The Time Traveller's Wife. She had seen it before, and read the book, and since she had enjoyed both, she decided to watch it again. She made herself comfortable, pulling her legs up under her and leaning slightly against Sherlock. He didn't seem to mind too much; his eyes flicked her way for a fraction of a second, then back to his work.

Halfway through, Molly finished her ice cream, putting the empty carton on the table and repositioning herself on the sofa. This time she sat sideways, with her back resting against the arm of the sofa, her knees bent and her bare feet tucked against Sherlock's leg. Again Sherlock's eyes merely flicked to her bare legs beside him then back to his work, without saying anything.

Getting close to the end of the film Molly found herself sitting upright on the sofa again, feet on the floor and leaning forward, watching intently. As the gunshot rang she couldn't help but look away, grabbing Sherlock's shoulder and hiding her face behind it, peeking over at the screen. Again Sherlock's eyes flicked to her, but this time they lingered, even turning his head to see her better.

"Are you crying?" He asked, sounding slightly shocked.

"Uh-huh." Molly sobbed gently, releasing his shoulder and coming out from hiding.

Sherlock looked at the screen then back at her. "Why would you watch a film that's going to make you cry?" Sherlock asked. He hadn't had much time for films since he was a child, and those he remembered had never been reason for crying.

"Because it's such a beautiful story. It's just so sad." Molly explained.

Sherlock again looked at the screen, watching for a few seconds, then looked back at Molly, then finally back to his laptop.

"I'll take your word for it." He said. '_Sentiment.'_ He thought, inwardly rolling his eyes.

The film ended, and Molly got up.

"Okay, I guess it's time for me to go to bed. Thanks for tonight, Sherlock. For the ice cream and… and just being here. You really saved my evening."

Sherlock looked up at her, silent for a few seconds, as if trying to figure something out.

"You're welcome." He said eventually "Sleep well, Molly."

* * *

_AN: Hi guys, thanks for all the follows and reviews. Just have to say, if you haven't seen that film, 'the time travellers wife', I would highly recommend it. ( I tried not to leave any spoilers for it just in case). It is a very clever and intriquing concept, and a beautiful love story at the same time. If Sherlock had been paying attention, even he would have cried. Okay, maybe Sherlock wouldn't have, but it was the first film that shattered the ice around my heart and made me cry. So yeah._


	16. The End of the World

**The End of the World**

Molly woke in the middle of the night to a bright light flashing through her eyelids and a tremendous explosion of noise, causing her to jerk upright in her bed looking for the source. As the noise rumbled to a close, to the accompaniment of the pelting rain, Molly realised what was happening. A thunderstorm.

"So you are alive. The thunder has been going for at least ten minutes now, I'm surprised you could sleep through it."

Molly turned her head to the voice as another bolt of lightning struck, illuminating the silhouette of Sherlock in his dressing gown standing by her window. The thunder was so loud that Molly had to wait for it to die down before replying.

"Sherlock? What are you doing in my room?"

"This is the only window in the flat facing towards the Thames. That's where the lightning is striking, electricity always choses the path of least resistance. The city is full of resistance, but the river is a brilliant conductor." Sherlock explained. The lightning illuminated him again and the thunder rolled. "Beautiful" Sherlock remarked with a smile.

Thankful for her fairly modest nighty, Molly slipped from the bed, enticed by Sherlock's words to see the storm, and knowing there was no way she would sleep till it was over anyway. She stood by Sherlock, looking in the direction he was. The river wasn't actually visible from her flat, but she gasped as she saw the brilliant forks of lightning over the houses. The roll of thunder that accompanied it was like nothing she had ever heard before, like giant's footsteps, or black bins rolling down the street amplified a million times.

"A mile for a second" Molly muttered, having tried to count the time apart to calculate how far away it was.

"Every 5 seconds actually." Sherlock corrected

"That wasn't even 5 seconds" Molly gasped

"It's not even a mile away. The storm is over a large portion of the city, not all of it is hitting the river." Sherlock calmly told her.

Another strike. The lightning and the thunder seemed to happen almost at once. Molly's breath caught and she subconsciously stepped closer to Sherlock. He looked down at her, so small and childlike beside him.

"Does it frighten you Molly? The thunder and lightning?" He murmured

"Not usually, but then I've never seen it this close before. It's always just been flashes and murmurs in the distance when I've heard it before. But close up… it sounds like the world is ending." Molly admitted.

Sherlock chuckled slightly and put a comforting arm around her, pulling her against his side. "It's not the end of the world, Molly"

The lightning flashed and the thunder rolled, and Molly felt safe under Sherlock's protective embrace.

"Either way, I'm glad you're here."

They stood and watched the rest of the storm in a comfortable silence. As the last few peals exhausted themselves, Molly's head rolled to rest against Sherlock's chest, nearly ready to fall back asleep standing. Sherlock scooped her up, carrying her back over to her bed and laying her gently down. She sighed gently, snuggling into her pillow and pulling the covers up to her chin.

"Sleep well" Sherlock said quietly, slipping out of the room.

* * *

_AN: Based on actual events. We had an amazing thunderstorm where I live the other day, so this chapter was my way of expressing what it felt like. The dialogue is almost exactly the same as between me and my husband, except I rephrased it a bit to make it more Sherlock-like. And we live by the Stour, not the Thames_, but same theory applies ;)


	17. Recipe for Disaster

**Recipe for Disaster**

A few more months passed without much incident. Sherlock's research was taking him out into the field more often, and though he was careful to disguise himself and stay out of sight, Molly couldn't help but worry whenever he went. She was always so relieved when he returned, so when the tell-tale signs of anxiety stayed with her for a few hours after he had returned one day, he knew something bad had happened while he was away.

After logging his finds on his laptop, he slipped up behind her as she cut vegetables and put his hand over hers, gently peeling the knife out of her hand. She jumped slightly at his sudden presence.

"Are you going to tell me what's the matter or do I have to deduce it?" he asked, sliding in beside her to take over the cutting.

"You made me jump." Molly said, still slightly surprised that he had come over at all.

"You know that's not what I mean. You've been anxious ever since I returned." Sherlock pointed out.

"Oh, uh, actually I was going to talk to you about it over dinner." Molly said shyly. Almost like old times.

"Good plan in theory, but the way it's distracting you, dinner might have needed cancelling. You almost cut yourself twice before I took over and you haven't even noticed the saucepan boiling over yet."

"Oh!" Molly gasped, running to it and turning the heat down quickly, reducing it to a more tame simmer. Taking a lot more care, Molly continued cooking dinner, and Sherlock continued to help. He was surprisingly adept in the kitchen for a man who didn't care much for food. Silly as it sounded, Molly enjoyed performing such a domestic task with Sherlock; it was_ nice_.

But all too soon it was over, and as they sat down with their meals, Sherlock resumed the discussion she'd been dreading.

"So come on then, what is it you've been worrying about?" His question somehow sounded more like a demand.

"My Mum and my sister are coming down for a girly shopping weekend in a few weeks' time." Molly explained.

Sherlock frowned, "I don't see why that would be a worry to you, you get on with both your mother and sister perfectly. You weren't as close to your mother as you were to your father, but you love her very much still, and there's no hard feelings there. I don't understand the worry."

Molly had never told Sherlock a thing about her mother and sister, but it didn't surprise her in the slightest he seemed to know all about her relationship with them. She had photos up, after all, and that would be enough for him.

"It's not that I'm worried about seeing them, Sherlock, I'm worried about them staying. Usually they use my guest room, _your _room_. _Well, Mum does, Emily sleeps on the sofa. " Molly explained.

"Well, tell them it's currently unavailable." Sherlock said simply.

"How? I can't tell them I'm hiding a man who is supposed to be dead!" Molly pointed out.

"Of course not" Sherlock agreed, before suggesting "Tell them you're letting the room out, you need the money or help paying the bills, and I'm your new flatmate."

"Oh, that will go down well" Molly responded sarcastically "Mum would be completely against the idea of me having a male flatmate, trust me. She'll be telling me all weekend that I should downsize if I'm struggling, not rent a room out. And of course they'll want to meet you. What if they recognise you?"

"Is that likely?" Sherlock asked.

Molly bit her lip "I'm not sure. Maybe not, you do look very different with your new haircut, but-"

"Best to play it safe." Sherlock finished for her. He sighed "If you want I can just keep out of your way all weekend. I have a few leads, I could make it an overnight stake-out I suppose."

"No!" Molly quickly protested "No Sherlock, you don't have to do that. What if something happened to you? I… I would be worried all weekend."

Sherlock smirked. "I _can_ take care of myself, Molly. But as it is evident you have another suggestion, let's hear it, and then maybe we can come to a decision."

Molly blushed, looking down at her dinner and pushing it around a bit, working up the nerve to tell him her suggestion. "My family has always been big on respecting each other's privacy. You would be safe from their prying eyes in… in my room. I… I don't mind sharing or… or you could have my bed to yourself, I can sleep on the floor."

"No, you needn't sleep on the floor, the bed is yours. I will accept your offer for me to stay in your room though. I can sit at your dressing table with my laptop, and get a lot done in two straight days."

Molly nodded and smiled, a lot more relaxed now it was sorted. And she was glad Sherlock hadn't immediately rejected the idea of staying in her room. In fact, she was now a little excited about the idea.

* * *

_AN:_ _I know, cliche-as-hell chapter title. Get over it :p . Still loving the reviews, keep them coming._


	18. Sleepover

_AN: To quote of my reviews: *rubs hands together* Let the sexual tension commence! _

* * *

**Sleepover**

The Morning of Molly's family's arrival dawned, and Molly rushed around her small flat, getting it ready. She had already cleaned the previous night, but wanted to be sure she hadn't missed anything. She knocked on Sherlock's bedroom door and pushed in without waiting for a response. She was exasperated to see him sitting on his laptop, having done nothing to get the room ready.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?! They are on their way _now._ They'll be here in less than an hour, I need to get this room ready, you need to get settled in my room. And your clothes!" She grabbed a few pieces off the floor, then went to the wardrobe, taking everything out in one handful.

Sherlock could have pointed out that with current traffic it would take just over an hour for her family to arrive, and it would take only 15 minutes for them to move his stuff and get the room ready for their stay, but decided against it. Now was not the right time to antagonise Molly, and it wouldn't hurt to move now. He shut his laptop, unplugging it and carrying it into her room. He settled back down at her dressing table, finding the plug socket beneath it and carrying on where he left off. He heard her loud sigh behind him.

"Fine, I'll just take care of everything else on my own then, shall I?" She huffed, finding homes for the rest of his minimal belongings and then slamming the door, leaving him in peace while she sorted out the guest bedroom.

As he had predicted, just over an hour later he heard the doorbell go, followed shortly by excited female voices coming from the living room. The family resemblance in the voices was strong, but Sherlock could still identify Molly's from the others. Not that it mattered, he thought, focusing back on his work. All the voices disappeared soon after, as the women left to go shopping presumably. Sometime later, they stopped back and Molly poked her head into the room, dropping off a load of shopping bags. Her eyes briefly met his, wearing a sheepish look for her earlier moodiness. Sherlock gave her a reassuring nod, then continued his work.

"Hang on a minute, I'm just going to change," She called out into the living room.

"Good idea, one of your new outfits?" A voice called back. The voice was older, probably her mother.

"Yeah. I'll just be a sec." Molly called back.

"I might do the same actually." Sherlock could make out another voice, her sister, saying as Molly closed the door.

"How's it going?" Molly then whispered. Sherlock didn't turn, hearing the soft rustle of clothes as she changed.

"Not bad, not as good as I'd hoped. I came _this_ close to getting a positive lock on Moriarty's main base of operations. But there's something about it. A bluff I think. Found his favourite sniper in the process though. If the police are smart enough to catch him when I give them my information it will be a huge blow to Moriarty. How was shopping?" Sherlock replied in a low voice.

"See for yourself." Molly replied, having finished changing.

Sherlock turned in his seat, and immediately his eyebrows rose, stunned by Molly's outfit. The long-sleeved, tight-fitting dress top she wore was very flattering, with black and red horizontal stripes that seemed to make her appear far curvier then he remembered her being. The leggings she wore under it also hugged her legs lovingly, bringing out the shape there, and the simple red heels she wore completed the look. There was just one thing wrong with the picture. Sherlock got up and reached a hand round the back of her head. Molly's breath caught and her heart raced, thinking he was going to kiss her, but was disappointed when he simply removed the clip from her hair, letting it tumble loose, then sat back down.

"Much better. A very good look, you should let your sister pick out clothes for you more often. Have a good evening out and try not to get too embarrassed by the stares you'll receive." He gave her a quick flash of a smile then turned back to his work. Molly's cheeks burned and she took a few deep breaths to compose herself before leaving again. There were a few excited girly squeals from the living room as the women gushed over each other's outfits, then once again silence as they left.

It was late when they returned, with a lot of giggling. Goodnights were exchanged, and Molly came back into her room, very pink cheeked and slightly wobbly. It could have been the heels, but more likely she'd been pressured into drinking more than usual.

"How was your evening?" Sherlock asked, glancing over his shoulder at her as she made it to the bed and kicked off her heels.

"You were right Sherlock. I did receive a lot of stares." She fell back onto the softness of the mattress. "I was so embarrassed. I'm never wearing this dress again." She concluded.

Sherlock smiled crookedly again. The dress had looked good, but Molly was Molly, and the dress wasn't very her. "Shame." He commented.

Molly dragged herself off the bed, wobbling over to the dressing table, taking a makeup wipe out of the drawer to remove her makeup. Of course, Sherlock was sitting on the stool where she would usually sit as to do so, so she simply sat on his lap to do it; the alcohol in her blood steam preventing her from thinking twice about the intimate action.

"Do you mind?" Sherlock said, disgruntled. Typing with one hand was slow and tedious, so he decided just to wait until she was done.

"Not at all. Do you?" Molly giggled, flashing him a cheeky smile. Sherlock merely rolled his eyes in response.

Molly finished removing her makeup and threw away the wipe, missing the bin but not caring. She picked up her hairbrush and started brushing through her hair, almost elbowing Sherlock in the face in the process.

"For goodness sake!" Sherlock snapped. He pulled the hairbrush out of her hand and did it for her, trying to make quick work of it.

"Mmm." Molly groaned "I love having my hair brushed. Or touched. It's so relaxing." She leaned back against his chest more.

"Okay, you're done. Off to bed with you." He quickly said, putting the hairbrush down. Molly got up, wobbling over to the bed again. Sherlock went back to his work, as he heard the soft rustle of clothes as she left a trail of them over to the bed.

"Sure you're not coming with?" She teased.

"Absolutely." Sherlock replied.

A couple of hours later, as Molly's soft snores filled the room, Sherlock wasn't so sure. His body was betraying him, as weariness crept up through him. His eyes kept threatening to close of their own accord, and his head was nodding. Staying up all the previous night probably hadn't been a good choice, but the lead he had found was just too good to be ignored. That had proved almost futile though, as Moriarty had changed his base of operations again. At least Sherlock could see the pattern now: he changed every other month. However, since he had no lead on the latest, there were no imminent leads to keep him interested and awake.

One thing was for certain, falling asleep on this stool would be a very bad idea. He would fall off for sure. His eyes wandered over to the bed, where Molly was safely tucked under the covers, curled up on her side. Why did she even have a double bed when she insisted on only using one side of it? It left plenty of room for him though, he couldn't help but notice. She had said she didn't mind sharing. Giving in, Sherlock closed his laptop and made his way over, shucking his dressing gown, leaving him in his pyjamas. He gently lowered himself onto the bed, laying on top of the covers, not under them, and careful not to disturb Molly, though it was unlikely she would wake; Sherlock knew what a deep sleeper she was. He closed his eyes, letting the steady pattern of her breathing lull him to sleep.

* * *

_AN: Hope you enjoyed. And it gets even better in tomorrows update ;). Also, just wanted to point out something I noticed when watching Scandal in Belgravia last night, something I'm passing on to all Sherlolly fans: Sherlock may sound critical of Molly's small lips and breasts, but Irene Adler happened to have to be the same in those areas. That's how he likes his ladies ;)_


	19. Busted

**Busted**

A movement beside her woke Molly. The mattress shifted as a weight was lifted from it. She cracked one eye open and saw Sherlock stooping to pick up his dressing gown, then return to the stool and opening his laptop to continue. She didn't remember him coming to bed the previous night. Not that she hadn't invited him; Molly flushed remembering her flirtatious behaviour. She had definitely had too much to drink, although not enough for a hangover evidently, which she was thankful for.

"Sorry for waking you." Sherlock said softly, as though she might have one. Molly had been hoping to pretend to be asleep a little longer to figure out what to say to him, but of course he would notice the slight change in her breathing pattern and know she was awake.

"It's okay" Molly replied, sitting up and stretching. "Um… I'm… sorry about last night. I was a little-"

"Tipsy?" Sherlock finished for her "It's okay. We've all been there."

"Have you?" Molly asked surprised. She couldn't imagine Sherlock drunk.

Sherlock cringed slightly. "It was an experiment" He said finally.

Molly smiled, still enjoying the visual. She dug in her shopping bags for something a little more her to wear, and got dressed. She blushed again as she had to retrieve her hairbrush from beside Sherlock, standing this time to whip her hair up in a quick ponytail as usual.

"I'd better get breakfast ready. Did you want me to sneak you something in? Did you eat last night?" Molly asked, suddenly realising she hadn't given any thought to feeding him.

"I'm fine, I'll grab something later" Sherlock replied.

Molly nodded and went out, getting started on making breakfast for her family. She mixed up the batter to make pancakes, smiling as she heard her sister groan from the sofa.

"How's the hangover?" She called

"Would be better if you'd be quieter." Emily groaned, sitting up squinting. She shamelessly changed in the middle of the living room, despite the open curtains, before coming over to sit up the table. Molly gave her a large glass of water and received a mumbled 'thanks' before continuing cooking. The batter was mixed, so the process was a lot quieter from then on, as she poured and cooked and flipped the pancakes.

"Morning girls" Their mum practically sung, coming into the living room. Clearly she'd been awake a little while, probably reading, but had waited until she heard signs of life to come out. She immediately started digging though the cupboards, pulling out various toppings for the pancakes and laying the table. Breakfast was ready in no time with her help, and soon they were all seated around the table, enjoying a traditional Hooper breakfast.

"So, when were you going to tell us about your boyfriend, Molly?" Emily suddenly asked, a cheeky glint in her eye.

"B…boyfriend?" Molly stuttered, caught completely off guard.

"Come now, Molly, we heard the voices from your room last night when you went to bed. It was clear you had a man hidden away in there." Her Mum observed.

"Mm, a very sexy one too, if his voice is anything to go by." Emily added, causing Molly's cheeks to burn. Emily smirked even more when she saw it. There would be no denying it now.

"That's enough of that, Emily." Her mum rebuked, before turning back to Molly "There really is no need for this secrecy though Molly-bear, you're a grown woman, free to make her own choices, if you're sexually involved with someone there is no need to hide it. I would rather have liked to meet this mystery man of yours."

Molly wished the ground would open and swallow her up. She had never been so mortified in her life, and she didn't have a clue what she was supposed to say. Thankfully she was spared giving an answer by the opening of her bedroom door. All eyes turned to it as Sherlock stepped out, wearing the hoodie and jeans Molly had bought him as a disguise when he went out. He was blushing deeply, and avoided looking at any of them, scratching his head nervously.

"Uh… h-hi. I'm um… Molly's boyfriend. I'm er… sorry we had to meet like this I… I'm a bit shy, I get a bit nervous meeting new people. Molly wanted to introduce us but I… uh… I chickened out. Sorry." He stuttered. _Stuttered?_ He really was laying it on thick. It seemed to be working though, as Molly saw her mother and sister's eyes softening, while looking at him.

"Oh, that's okay dear, I understand. Molly was the same, _painfully_ shy growing up." Her mum spoke up, a warm smile on her face "Why don't you come join us for breakfast, I promise, we don't bite."

"Much" Emily whispered to Molly, openly checking Sherlock out. "Nice work."

Molly blushed, but couldn't help but smile as Sherlock came and sat down next to her, dragging his chair closer to her and taking her hand.

"Aww" Her mother and sister cooed at once. Making both Molly and Sherlock blush more, their eyes meeting shyly.

"So come on then, what's the story? How did you two meet, how long have you been going out?" Emily asked eagerly, although the glint in her eye said those weren't the questions she'd be asking if their mother wasn't present.

"Um, well we've actually known each other a while, but only started going out more recently. I work with the police you see, and sometimes that means going down to the morgue to ask about a body. I don't really like it down there, it gives me the creeps, but I didn't mind going because it meant I could see Molly. I always thought she was so pretty and sweet." Sherlock said, giving her a glance so filled with warmth and wonder, Molly could almost believe his words were real. He looked away again shyly and continued "I didn't think she'd ever notice me though. Then one day she looked sad, and… and I didn't know what was up, still don't, but wanted to cheer her up, so I asked her to coffee. She gave me this odd look like she was seeing me for the first time and I was so nervous. Then she said yes and I couldn't have been happier. That was about… 7 months ago."

"Has it really been that long?" She asked breathlessly, playing along, though with some genuine surprise, knowing what date he was referring to. That was how long he'd been living with her now.

"I can barely believe it either" He answered just as breathlessly, his hand moving up to sweep a stray hair from her face. Then his eyes flicked to the others and he pulled back, blushing and digging into his pancakes as if to hide embarrassment.

Her mum and sister backed off slightly after that, not asking any more questions so as not to further embarrass the 'couple', but occasionally giving them 'aren't-they-adorable?' glances. Thankfully breakfast ended quickly, and the girls got ready for a second day of shopping. This time when they left the flat Sherlock left too, as there would be no explanation for his staying.

"So I'll uh… see you later" He said, standing very close to Molly, a few meters away from where her Mum and sister were loading the car with their overnight things so they could leave straight after the days shop.

"Yeah. Later" She said. Her breath caught as he leaned in close, and when he kissed her, she felt her heart simultaneously soar and break in the knowledge that it was all an act. She kissed back, fighting to behave as if it was natural, and not let her turmoil show. She thought she was doing a good job of it, but naturally not good enough for Sherlock. He gave her hand a squeeze - not for the benefit of her family, they couldn't see that hand from where they were standing, but for her. It was a reassurance, an apology and a thank you all at once. His eyes conveyed the same as he pulled back. He then turned, giving a shy wave to her mum and sister and was off, disappearing around a corner and out of sight. Molly just hoped he was heading for the fire-exit to her back window and not out on some dangerous mission.

"Oh my word, you two are so perfect for each other!" Emily burst out as soon as Sherlock was out of earshot. "And he is _so_ good looking!"

"He reminds me of someone, not sure who though." Their mother added. Molly almost froze at the words, but continued to act natural, leading the way to the underground station.

"Yeah you're right. Oh I remember! What's his name… that famous detective! The one who Molly used to fancy. He doesn't look exactly the same, but very similar. Oh what was his name, Molly?" Emily asked

"Sherlock." Molly answered stiffly, though relieved that Emily only thought he looked similar and didn't realise he was one and the same.

"Oh yes of course." Her Mother agreed, then added "7 months ago did he say? That was about the time that detective died wasn't it? That was what you were sad about when he asked you out, wasn't it? Oh please say you didn't just go out with the boy just because he looked like someone else you used to admire."

Molly bit her lip to stop herself laughing at the ridiculous conclusion her mother had come to. At least it was a good cover though. "That may have been part of it." She said like a confession "But I've got to know him since then, and I love-" uh-oh, what was Sherlock calling himself as her boyfriend? He hadn't said a name had he? Molly quickly picked the first name that came into her head "- Ben, for who he is, not who he looks like."

"Well that's good then. Because you really do make an adorable couple." Her mum said happily.

Molly sighed inwardly. They did. If only it were real.

* * *

Their second day of shopping finished fairly early, as they were all getting a little bored of it, and had mostly already overspent what they had budgeted for the weekend. They got the tube back to Molly's street and exchanged goodbyes and promises to call soon out by the car. As they drove away, Molly looked up at her window to see Sherlock watching too. He was waiting for her again. It would be awkward, after what they had pretended this morning, but Molly was no coward. She sighed and went up, letting herself in.

"I'm sorry if I went too far this morning." Sherlock immediately said as she walked in. He turned from the window, meeting her eyes sincerely. Back in his usual attire, with his upright posture and clipped tones, he looked like a completely different person to the one she'd introduced to her family. But then that was the point.

Molly broke the eye contact, turning around to hang up her coat. "It's fine. I'm grateful you covered for me, I'd have had a hard time coming up with an explanation on my own, and you fooled them perfectly." She picked up her shopping bags and took them into her bedroom. Sherlock followed her, leaning in the doorway. She couldn't help but notice his things were already gone from her room.

"It was necessary, but that doesn't mean it wasn't harsh on you. I felt the tension in your kiss-"

"_Okay_, Sherlock. Please can we just pretend this never happened? That's what you're good at isn't it?" Molly snapped.

Sherlock straightened away from the doorframe. "If that's what you want. I'll be in my room."

He walked away and Molly let out a huge sigh, half of relief, half of frustration. At least it was over now. As much as she wanted to pretend it never happened though, his kiss lingered in her mind. So warm and gentle. One day, she told herself. One day she will really be introducing Sherlock to her family as her boyfriend, and when they kiss it will not be an act. If only.

* * *

_AN: Phew, that was a big one wasn't it? I've posted a few short ones recently though, so figured you deserved something you could get your teeth into. Thank's to all my followers for your support, and to my reviews, who I love hearing from. A big shout-out to Annika and her friend's she passed my story on to: you have no ideas how it warmed my heart to hear that :)_


	20. How To Save a Life

_AN: Sorry for updating so much later than usual. Busy day. Good thing I'm a little ahead on my writing._

* * *

**How to Save a Life**

It was September now. Nearly nine months that Sherlock had been staying with her. He was getting close to the end of his stay too, as his research was nearly done, and soon he would be taking his findings to the police and coming out of hiding. Molly wasn't sure how she felt about that. Part of her didn't want their time together to be over, but that was selfish. She would still see him, and so could John and Mrs Hudson, which was definitely a good thing.

Molly was just thinking how it had probably been too long since she'd paid John a visit, when she saw him entering the hospital, a few people ahead of her. He hadn't seen her. She tried calling to him, but he didn't seem to hear her. He was clearly focused on something, and it gave Molly an uneasy feeling. He marched straight past admin and over to the lifts. Molly tried to get through to join him, but had to stand back for a gurney to get past, and by the time she reached the lift, it was already on its way up. She jumped in the next one, poking her head out at each floor to try and catch sight of him. It was the top floor when she spotted him, disappearing through a pair of doors. Molly gasped.

It was the staircase to the roof.

There was only one reason Molly could see for him to go up there. Ice flooded Molly's veins, making it hard for her to breathe. Immediately she dove in the door to her left, the ladies toilets, and after checking they were empty she pulled out her phone, selecting Sherlock's number and silently begging for a quick response.

"Sherlock!" She cried as soon as he picked up "Sherlock you have to come! You have to come right now! He's going to kill himself Sherlock, you have to stop him!" It came out in a rush, followed by sobs that she couldn't control.

"Okay, Molly, get it together. Repeat the facts to me calmly and precisely. Who is going to kill themselves? What did you see?" Sherlock replied, coolly and calmly, though urgently.

Molly took a deep breath to calm herself, detached herself as she would with a body in the morgue and spoke in her professional voice. "John. He walked into the hospital with a determined look on his face, went straight into an elevator, then on the top floor took the stairs to the roof. I think he's going to jump."

"Then get up there and **stop** him." Sherlock replied, his composure slipping slightly to expose his worry.

"I… I don't think I can, Sherlock. If he wanted my help he would have come to me. He needs _you_." Molly pointed out.

"Well I _can't_ go to him, can I?" Sherlock responded through gritted teeth. "You know what will happen if Moriarty's men see me. It'd stop him jumping, but be a sniper's bullet in his brain. And Lestrade's, and Mrs Hudson's."

Molly winced at his bluntness. "Then don't let them see you. If anyone can sneak past them it's you."

"And if I fail, John is a dead man." Sherlock responded. For Sherlock to even consider the possibility of his own failure spoke volumes. It wasn't a refusal though, it was letting her know what she was asking.

"If you don't try he's a dead man anyway." Molly replied firmly.

There was silence on the end of the line for a few seconds, then Sherlock's cold detached voice finally answered. "I'm on my way. Get back down to the morgue, if there are any further… developments, call me immediately. I won't risk the others unnecessarily." Then he hung up.

Molly took a big breath, putting the phone away with shaking hands. She followed Sherlock's instructions and went back down to the morgue. She tried to distract herself by getting some work done, but couldn't help but worry that any second they would be wheeling John's broken body in for her to examine. She jumped when her phone rang, fumbled to answer quickly and ended up dropping it.

"Molly?" Sherlock asked at the noise, as she scooped it up off the floor.

"I'm here… did you… is he… where are you?" She struggled to get the words out.

"Yeah, I've got John. We're on the roof still." He reassured her. Molly sighed in relief before Sherlock continued "I'm afraid it's all been a bit much for him, he's in shock. The thirst should kick in in a minute, we'll need water, bring a couple of bottles. Thanks"

"Okay" Molly agreed, breathless with relief. Sherlock hung up and Molly didn't waste any time rushing out of the morgue and finding the nearest vending machine. She had to wait for someone else to finish with it, but when it was free she got two bottles of water, and then spotted a snack bar with 'now with extra Vitamin B' written on the packet. She bought that as well, knowing vitamin B was good for shock victims. She slipped the bar into her pocket and raced to the roof. When she got to the door she could hear Sherlock and John's voices from the other side and felt a smile tug at her lips. It was heart-warming that they were reunited again after all this time. The handle on the door was stiff, and she struggled to hold both bottles and open it. The voices stopped and she blushed as she was making a spectacle of herself.

"Sorry it took so long, there was a queue at the vending machines. Here you go John" She explained on her way over to John. He took the bottles eagerly, finishing the first one in seconds and opening the next. "Wow, you really are thirsty. Oh and here, I bought you this too, you'll need vitamin b, this is the best I could do." She added, giving him the snack bar. "And also, I just wanted to say, I am so sorry for lying to you about Sherlock. I-"

"Don't be" Sherlock cut her off. His voice sounded harsh, but she knew his intention. He wouldn't let her shoulder unnecessary blame.

"It's okay, I understand" John spoke over him, giving Sherlock a look for his rudeness. Just like old times. Molly couldn't help but smile.

"Okay" She nodded. Then she spotted the coat around his shoulders and turned to Sherlock. She was almost distracted by the bruise on Sherlock's cheek, but immediately realised that was probably John's handiwork and Sherlock had probably earned it. She focused back on what she was going to say. "You wore the coat? I thought it was too dangerous, what if someone recognized you?"

"Nobody saw me, I took back alleys all the way here, came in the back door and put all the hospital cameras I had to walk past on a loop until I was clear. I bought the coat for John's benefit, I didn't want him to see me out of the corner of his eye, think I was someone else and jump before I could reach him. " Sherlock explained, giving her a subtle nod, a confession that she was right, he was the only one who could have stopped him.

"Yeah thanks it helped, what with the new haircut and all." John said absentmindedly, looking from Sherlock to Molly. Molly wondered what he was thinking, but he never said. Instead he turned to Sherlock with another question. "So what now then? Are you coming back for good now?"

"No, still too early for that yet. It's still not safe for you. Shouldn't be too much longer though." Sherlock assured him.

"You have a plan, right?" John asked

"Of course. I haven't exactly been idle these 9 months, even if I haven't been able to get out much." Sherlock said, getting up and pacing as he explained what he had been doing to John, and what he planned to do.

"Wow, yeah, that should do it" John agreed with a laugh, before sobering slightly "but what about me? I just go back to… what I was doing before, when I thought you were dead?"

"I'm afraid so, you need to act like you never saw me today, any change in your behavior and the people watching you will get suspicious." Sherlock explained to him. Molly winced, knowing how hard that would be for John. Sure enough, John confirmed her thoughts with his confession.

"I don't know if I can. I mean… jeez I was a mess. A proper mess. The drinking…. And it wasn't just me I was messing up, it was Harry too. I can't keep doing that to her."

"Hmm" Sherlock mused "There might be another way. If something else was to inspire your reformation perhaps. A new religion maybe?"

Molly listened as they bounced idea's back and forth, trying to think of anything herself, eager to help John in any way she could.

"Alright then, a new girlfriend then. You never seemed to be lacking in those" Sherlock suggested

"Yeah that was before, I haven't had a new girlfriend since you scared the last one off." John pointed out "And besides, who would want to date me if I'm still acting like a depressed, jobless drunk?"

"Maybe if that person was only pretending to date you" Sherlock said.

"Who? Oh!" John asked.

Molly looked up and was surprised to see both their eyes on her. "Me?!" She gasped. She had wanted to do something for John, but wasn't sure this was it.

"It's a perfect cover" Sherlock assured, turning back to John without giving her a chance to deny it "If anyone asks it was Molly who stopped you killing yourself. She talked you down and you started to feel a spark, something that wasn't there before and decided to see where it went. But obviously you knew you'd have to clean up your act for a serious relationship and she agreed to help you.-"

"But I haven't agreed to anything yet!" Molly spluttered. Selfish as it was, all she could think about was how hard she'd been working, trying to win over Sherlock. And now she was supposed to go out with his best friend? It just seemed wrong.

"Oh come now Molly, it's no big deal, you're only pretending to date him. What price is that to potentially save his life?" Sherlock cajoled. Molly clenched her jaw, recognizing the tone he had always used to manipulate her. He was supposed to have given that up! Although he hadn't promised, Molly remembered. But then, tone of voice aside, she couldn't help but admit he was right. John's life and Sherlock's secrecy was at stake. She would do anything for those two.

"Okay. I suppose that would be okay." She agreed.

"Excellent" Sherlock smiled at her. He sounded a little too happy and Molly couldn't help but wonder if he had ulterior motives suggesting she date John, if he was trying to distract her from himself. If so he was underestimating her again, she wouldn't be that easily distracted.

* * *

_AN: Sorry for the sudden plot twist with her dating John. This story was supposed to be a complimentary piece to my other fic 'A New Page' and although it has massively overtaken it in popularity, I am still following that story-line. But don't worry, there will still be plenty of Sherlolly in-between. If you do want to read what happened with John and Sherlock on the roof you can find it in 'A New Page, although if you want to read it in parallel with this story (for maximum effect and no spoilers) only read up to chapter 7 (John's New Girlfriend) for now, and I'll tell you when to read the next chapter. _


	21. First Date

**First Date**

Sherlock insisted that Molly and John go on at least one normal date, before John just start hanging out at Molly's all the time. That was what John had wanted, eager to spend time with Sherlock and help on his cases, but Sherlock had put his foot down; they needed to look like a normal couple dating. And so tonight John was taking Molly out to Bella Italia, a nice (but reasonably priced) Italian restaurant near Covent gardens, then possibly to catch a show if they could get late tickets.

Molly was just about to leave to meet John when Sherlock's voice stopped her.

"Where are you off to?"

"My date with John?" Molly replied, uncertainly. She had told him that was tonight, and had even reminded him earlier that he would need to get his own dinner.

"Oh I'm sorry, you just don't look like you're going out on a date." Sherlock said pointedly.

Molly looked down at herself. She was wearing a nice, silky, floral print top, a pair of grey skinny jeans and her black flats. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was nice.

"Well… no, but, it's John, he knows me, he won't really be expecting-" She tried to explain.

"Molly." Sherlock cut her off in warning tones. "Yes; it's just John. But you need to remember that John isn't the one you're trying to make an impression on. The people watching him need to be able to clearly see that this is a date, not dinner with a friend. So let's try this again shall we?"

Sherlock got up, leading the way back to her wardrobe. Without asking permission he started rummaging for something for her to wear. Molly blushed furiously and quickly pulled a dress out, trying to get this over with quickly.

"What about this?" She asked.

Sherlock looked critically at the smart black dress. "Maybe for a job interview, or a funeral. Think date, Molly!"

"I thought it was classy" Molly said, putting the dress back with a slight pout.

"No, classy is the dress you wore at Christmas. Or at least it would have been if you didn't have a wrapping bow in your hair. Besides, classy is not what we're looking for, we're looking for fun and flirty" Sherlock explained.

"What… what about the dress I got with my sister? The red and black stripes?" Molly suggested.

The corner of Sherlock's lips curled in a smirk. "Are you intending to pull with John, Molly? I doubt he would mind, he has little else on his mind on a date."

Molly was gobsmacked by Sherlock's outrageous comment, and a little shocked by John at the same time. She would have thought the army doctor too courteous and sweet for that kind of predatory behaviour, but then she would never doubt Sherlock's assessment of a person.

"Okay, not that dress" Molly finally managed to reply. "What about this?" She pulled out a red, 50's style, halter neck, knee length dress and held it up to herself. Sherlock stopped his rummaging and stepped closer, staring at the dress.

"Perfect" he murmured. His eyes wandered up to meet Molly's for a beat, then he looked away quickly, coughing to clear his throat "John will love it" He said, walking past her and out of her room, to give her privacy to change "Better hurry up and get it on, you don't want to keep him waiting."

When Molly finally made it to the restaurant John was already waiting for her.

"Sorry I'm late" She quickly apologised.

"Don't worry about it" John smiled, holding the door open for her "You look beautiful"

Molly blushed slightly, beaming at him "Thanks. I can't take all the credit, I had a little help from a friend picking out the dress."

A twitch of John's eyebrows showed he knew what _friend_ she meant. "I see. But I wasn't just referring to the dress. I'm sure you would look just as beautiful without it."

Now it was Molly's turn to raise her eyebrows. She could see what Sherlock meant about John's one-track mind now.

"No, I didn't mean it like that" John hastily backtracked, laughing. The hostess arrived and John quickly turned to her, his cheeks still slightly flushed from his faux-pas. "Hi, we have a table reserved, in the name of Watson"

"Right this way" The hostess said, showing them to their table. "Someone will be with you shortly."

John made himself comfortable, taking his coat off, then smiled at Molly.

"So… here we are. Quite different from last time we ate together."

"Yeah," Molly agreed. "Sorry I left it so long without contacting you…"

"It's okay. Life gets in the way sometimes. I understand" John reassured. His eyes briefly flicked to a man being seated at a table near them, then back to Molly. He smiled and took her hand. Molly realised what that must mean. The man must be Moriarty's surveillance on John, or at least John thought so. She wondered if he had realised he was being watched before, or if Sherlock had told him? Now was not the time to ask though.

"Well at least I reached you when I did" Molly said, remembering to stick their cover story.

John gave her a small nod, but was saved responding by the arrival of the waitress. After a quick scan of the menu they both made their orders.

"Oh, and a bottle of red wine and two glasses" John added at the end of the order. The waitress nodded and left while Molly raised her eyebrows at him.

"I thought I was supposed to be helping to overcome your drinking habits?" She reminded him sternly.

John didn't meet her eyes as he scratched his head. "It's a date, Mol. Nothing wrong with a glass of wine on a date."

"You didn't order a glass, you ordered a bottle." Molly pointed out.

As if to prove her point the waitress arrived, opening the bottle and placing it and two glasses on the table between them. There was an awkward silence until she left, then John said with a sigh; "It's to share, Molly. But you pour if it'll make you feel more comfortable."

Molly nodded, picking up the bottle and filling her own glass before moving onto John's. He gently put his hand over hers, pushing it away when his glass was half full.

Molly gave him a shy smile, which then turned cheeky. "Ah, I see how it is Dr Watson. Trying to get _me_ drunk are you?"

John nearly spilt his wine, laughing at her outrageous deduction. "Oh dear, not off to a very good start tonight, am I? I've already given the impression twice that I'm only after one thing. Don't worry, I'll behave myself from now on."

The change in John from the times she saw him when he thought Sherlock was dead was amazing. She assumed he was much more like he had been before Sherlock's fall, but the only time's she'd seen him then he had been too busy trying to get Sherlock to behave, for her to get to see this side of him. He was cheeky and funny and great at keeping the conversation going, even when she couldn't think of anything to say. Molly found herself really enjoying his company.

"That was you!" She shrieked with laughter after he described a prank he'd pulled as an intern at Bart's before signing on as an army doctor. "People still talk about that you know, I swear Mike tells all his students about it."

"Of course, he was there. He was just jealous he didn't come up with it himself." John smirked. "What about you, ever played any good pranks down in the morgue?"

Molly shook her head "No, no I'm… I'm far too much of a good girl for that. I've been the butt of a few though, especially when I was new. Like this one time, one of the lab boys hid a speaker on the body, and then hid with the microphone, so when I made my first incision he started screaming down it and it sounded like it was coming from the body. I jumped so high, and I nearly cried."

Molly could see John biting his lip, trying not to laugh. It was a losing battle though as the laugh escaped him. "Sorry, that's mean, but it's just so funny. I can totally picture it" He giggled again. Molly laughed with him. After a few years she could see the funny side. She went to pour herself another glass of wine, but was surprised to find the bottle was empty. Then she noticed the time. "Oh my! I didn't realise how long we'd been talking. There's no way we'll make a show now."

"Oh well, maybe next time" John said. He waved the waitress over and settled the bill, before putting an arm round her to walk her out. It wasn't all that far to Molly's, so they decided to walk together to prolong the evening that bit longer. It was a bit nippy, so like a true gentleman John took off his coat, wrapping it around Molly's shoulders. They carried on chatting as they walked, and in no time they were standing in front of Molly's flat.

"So… uh.. I had a good time tonight" Molly said.

"Me to." John smiled at her

"So… maybe next time we can go see a show, since we didn't… this… time" Molly trailed off. John was standing in front of her. Close in front of her.

"That would be good" He breathed, leaning in slightly.

Molly pulled back suddenly, taking his coat off her shoulders and shoving it into his hands.

"Better not forget this. See you." She turned and started up the steps, feeling flustered. A text alert sounded in her pocket. She knew who it would be before she looked.

_Forgetting something? – SH_

Molly rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew what he was suggesting. Why did he have to be so pushy?

"John!" She called, turning around. He paused in the act of getting into the cab he had just hailed. Not wanting to hold him up Molly jogged down to him. She planted a sweet kiss on his cheek, earning a smile "Call me" She said, then turned back to enter her apartment building. This time, no texts interrupted her.

"Happy?" Molly snapped at Sherlock as she entered her apartment.

Sherlock's eyes scanned her up and down, a smirk curling up the corner of his mouth.

"Don't pretend you didn't have a good time, it's written all over you. You're mad at me for interfering, but I could see you considering it before you walked away. I just gave you the push you needed. Next time you'll kiss him without me having to tell you to. And it won't be on the cheek."

Molly's mouth opened and closed several times as she stood there indignantly.

"I really hate you sometimes" She finally pushed out through gritted teeth.

Sherlock closed his laptop lid, got up and walked towards his room, stopping as he was about to pass her.

"No you don't" he said in a gravely whisper, and kissed her cheek like she had John's, before continuing on his way into his bedroom and closing the door. Molly sighed, heading for her own bedroom. He was right, about everything of course, and it was that which she hated. She could never hate him.


	22. Co-Conspirators

_AN: So this is where the story goes on a two chapter tangent I never planned on, but works anyway. I do love it when my stories develop a mind of their own, it's almost like being the reader, not the writer. This one is only short though, I promise tomorrow's is bigger._

* * *

**Co-Conspirators**

"Guess who managed to score two theatre tickets for tonight? Not busy are you?" said John's cheery voice at the end of the telephone. It was Saturday, two days after Molly's first date with him. She was surprised he hadn't called sooner, and had been thinking about calling him herself when her phone rang.

"What are we seeing?" She responded smiling, holding the phone in-between her ear and shoulder, as her hands were putting away the shopping. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sherlock turn on the sofa to look at her, smirk, then turn back to his work.

"The Lion King. I know the film is for kids, but the show is supposed to be good. And I figured since you're a cat person you might like it." John replied, audibly cringing at his own reasoning.

Molly laughed. "You don't have to be a kid to enjoy Lion King. I've actually been wanting to see that show for a while."

"Phew, that's good. The show is at 7:30, so I'll pick you up about 7:00?"

"Sounds good. See you then."

Molly hung up, smiling and humming 'circle of life' as she finished up putting the shopping away and started getting lunch ready.

"Another date with John?" Sherlock spoke from the sofa without turning round.

"Yes." Molly said cheerily, "We're going to the theatre."

"Hm. John is pulling out all the stops. Don't forget to brush your teeth."

Molly's jaw clenched for a second, but she was determined not to let Sherlock spoil this for her.

"Any advice on what to wear this time?" She asked evenly.

"Smart casual" Was all Sherlock had to say. He didn't comment about the date again for the rest of the afternoon, and confined himself to just a nod of approval when she showed him what she planned to wear. He looked up when John knocked on the door though. When Molly opened it, the two men nodded to each other, before John turned to Molly, smiling and putting his arm around her to escort her away. John's phone buzzed on their way out of the building and he laughed when he looked at the text he had received. He turned his phone for Molly to see it briefly before putting it away.

_Behave. – SH_

Molly was thoroughly enjoying the show. It was everything she had dreamed of. She sang along with the songs she knew, blushing slightly at the look John was giving her as she did so, somewhere between amusement and affection. His arm rested around her shoulders for most of it, except for one point in the middle. During a scene change he slipped a note into her lap.

_Living with Sherlock driving you mad yet?_

Molly smiled. It was a great way to have a conversation without risk of being overheard. Even if they were spotted passing notes it could be assumed they were love-notes. She picked her moment to write back so she wouldn't miss anything important in the show.

_He hasn't been so bad. I laid the rules down pretty early. Recently he seems to be forgetting though. I don't know how to put him back in his place now._

She saw a twitch of John's eyebrows as he read it, clearly impressed that she'd had any kind of control over Sherlock's behaviour. They both just watched for a few minutes. After another song John slipped the note back to her.

_Well you know the one thing he can't stand?_

Molly thought hard, but could come up with nothing. She gave the note back to John without writing on it and with a small shake of her head. He wrote and gave it back to her a few minutes later.

_Being ignored._


	23. Attention Seeking

**Attention Seeking**

After their date to the theatre, John walked Molly home again. Just as last time, they stopped outside her building to say goodbye.

"Thanks for another lovely evening, John" Molly said.

"You're very welcome" John replied, smiling genuinely "Although my wallet might not be so grateful at the rate we're going."

Molly laughed. "Well maybe next time I can cook you dinner to save money, and we can stay in and watch a movie" She suggested. Although they both knew that John coming over wouldn't be to spend time with her, but rather with her flatmate. Molly didn't mind. As much as she liked spending time with John, she hadn't forgotten why she was doing this.

"Sounds like a plan." John replied, "How does Tuesday sound?"

"Why wait so long? You have other dates lined up?" Molly replied cheekily.

John laughed. "Nothing so exciting. Just keeping an eye on Harry; I got her into the drink this time, it's my duty to help her get off it. And I've got another appointment with my shrink. Hopefully I'll have made enough progress this time to get out of my visits for a while."

"Well I hope it goes well. Tuesday it is then." Molly replied. John nodded, and silence fell between the two of them. Molly bit her lip, hesitating, and John's eyes flicked right to the movement. He didn't put any pressure on her though, just waited. His patience warmed her and she smiled, before giving him a sweet and innocent kiss on the lips.

John smiled softly "See you Tuesday then"

He walked away, down to the curb to hail a cab, as Molly turned and made her way up to her apartment, a soft smile on her lips.

"You see, now that wasn't so bad was it?" Sherlock said smugly as she entered her flat. Remembering John's note, she walked straight past him, not gratifying him with a response. She was sitting at her dressing table, removing her makeup, when Sherlock appeared in the doorway.

"So how was it?" He tried again.

Without a word, Molly got up, dropped her makeup wipe in the bin, and closed the door, right in Sherlock's face. She only regretted that she couldn't see his reaction.

Over the next few days Molly continued to ignore Sherlock. She didn't even make his dinner, replying with a short "You know how to cook" when he asked about it. For the first day Sherlock tried to act unbothered by her behaviour, treating like for like, but by the next day he was clearly more than a little put out by it, putting more effort into getting her attention. By the evening he was standing in her way as she tried to go into her bedroom.

"Molly talk to me… Please" He added, wrapping his arms around her waist. Molly stared at him blankly, waiting for him to let her go and let her past. Sherlock stared steadily back, then with the slightest crook of a smile, started leaning towards her, as if he was going to kiss her.

"Go down that road, and I will hurt you." Molly warned, deadpan. That was crossing a line when it came to manipulation, a line she wouldn't stand for.

"I'd like to see you try." He smirked, clearly pleased to have gained some kind of response. None-the-less he didn't push her any further, letting her go.

The next day, Molly was back on track with ignoring him. She didn't pay him any attention before work, and after work she was too busy getting ready for her night in with John. Sherlock had a few comments on this, that he naturally couldn't keep to himself, but she just ignored him. She was busy cooking dinner when he came over and sat on the worktop next to her. She fought the inclination to tell him to get off the worktop, or to bat him away.

"Molly. It's obvious you are mad at me for something, and that you are ignoring me as some kind of punishment. It started after you got back from your last date with John, though it was clearly not anything that I did then, as the jokes I made were minor offences, and you wouldn't go through this much effort over that. So it was a building offense over time and John just gave you the ammunition to use against me. Remind me to thank him for that when he gets here in about 5 minutes. I really would prefer it though if we had this behind us by then however, so why don't you just stop with this immaturity and talk to me about what's bothering you. After all, the chances of me improving on the behaviour that's bothering you is absolutely zero if I don't know what it is." Sherlock addressed her reasonably.

Molly sighed. Now really wasn't the best time, as she needed to get dinner done, but she couldn't ignore him now he had asked _properly._ She swatted him off the worktop and handed him a knife and some vegetables to chop as they talked.

"You said you were done manipulating me Sherlock, but you've been doing it again recently. On the roof of Bart's, kissing my cheek when I was mad at you after my first date with John. And loads in the last few day's trying to get a response out of me." She explained.

"Well then you shot yourself in the foot with your chosen method of dealing with it." Sherlock replied unrepentantly.

"Sherlock-" Molly started to chide him.

"I never promised. I told you I wouldn't promise." He cut her off.

"Yes and I accepted that, I knew you would have slip ups. That's why I was going to let you off for doing it when we were on top of Bart's. But there's a difference between occasionally slipping up and falling back into making a habit of it. I won't stand for that Sherlock, not anymore, we're passed that. You know I would do anything for you without it." Molly told him firmly.

"I know." Sherlock said softly and remorsefully. "I just can't help myself sometimes. I'm sorry. But the fact we're closer is partly to fault. It's too easy to flirt with you sometimes."

Molly's heart skipped a beat at this confession. She snapped her head round to look at him. His face was carefully blank as he focussed on cutting the vegetables. She took a big breath, trying to decide how to respond.

"If you want a romantic relationship, Sherlock, that door is always open." She told him breathlessly.

"I don't want it." Sherlock was quick to respond "It's just lapses in my control, it doesn't mean I'm going to make that kind of mistake."

His blunt refusal only hurt slightly. She felt more sorry for him, denying himself for no good reason. She opened her mouth to say so, but was cut off by a knock at the door. John was here.

"That'll be John. I'll get it. The vegetables are all chopped." Sherlock said, laying down the knife and going to the door.

Molly sighed again. At least she'd got through to him about the manipulation. The pros and cons of a relationship would have to wait until another day.

* * *

_AN: By the way, haven't said it in a while, but a huge thanks to all my followers and those who have favorited my story for your kind support. And especially to those who leave comments, every single one is a ray of sunshine in my day._


	24. An Unexpected Complication

**An Unexpected Complication**

It only took a couple of hours for Sherlock to brief John on everything he had found, and give him a list of intel he needed John to get for him. Molly enjoyed watching how the soldier and detective worked together, John's different way of thinking adding the little extra depth to Sherlock's findings. Occasionally she would add a thought, pleased that they always at least considered it when she did. It was a great feeling to be a part of the team, and gave her hope that even after Sherlock came out of hiding, she would still be a part of whatever he did.

After his briefing with John was over though, Sherlock went back to solitary work on his computer, and John and Molly spent some time just hanging out and watching TV together. It was nice to spend time together without the pressure of being watched. They were able to be more themselves, more like just friends. As weeks went by, John's visits followed much the same pattern, and Molly and John went out on a few more dates as well, just to keep up appearances.

Tonight though, Molly wasn't seeing John. She had seen him 4 days in a row, and wasn't used to having so much of a social life. She needed some _her_ time. She was thinking a nice long bath, before curling up in bed with a book.

It was not to be though. As she left Barts, a car pulled up in front of her. It had dark tinted windows, but it was the wrong style to be one of Mycroft's. The passenger window unwound, and a European looking man with short cropped hair, a scar on his cheek and stubble leaned across from the drivers seat to address her.

"Dr Hooper? Get in, please." He said with a slightly Russian accent.

Molly didn't obey immediately, not sure if she should trust this man and his request. "My mother warned me not to get into cars with strangers." She replied nervously.

"Well then. My name is Dimitri Moratov." The back window rolled down as he spoke, revealing another man with a gun pointed at her. "Now you know my name and understand the situation a little better, I will tell you again. Get in the car."

For a second, Molly considered running, then decided it was probably best not to test these people. She probably wouldn't make it far, and she'd seen bullet wounds from this kind of distance, and they weren't pretty. Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath and opened the car door, slipping in and belting up.

"Wise choice, Dr Hooper." Dimitri said, starting the car and pulling away. Molly turned to look out the window, but her view was quickly obscured. She screamed in shock as a black cloth bag came down over her head, blindfolding her. Her arms were seized from behind her and pushed up behind her back, forcing her to lean forward slightly. She felt them being bound and tried to struggle, but the grip on her arms just increased to a painful level until the job was completed. Confident she was secured, her assailant let go of her, and she was left to sit back up as comfortably as she could with her hands bound behind her, her breath coming in gasps, like a panic attack.

They weren't driving long, and when she car came to a stop she was hustled out, lead through a couple of doors and pushed down into another seat. Her hands were briefly untied, her workbag taken from her, and then her hands were retied behind the chair. Her legs were also bound to the chair legs and some kind of strap went around her torso.

"Why are you doing this? What do you want with me?" She asked frantically, turning her head blindly.

"Nothing from you, Dr Hooper. You are just here as… an_ incentive_ for Dr Watson to give us the information we need. Although if he doesn't… well I'm afraid that wouldn't be very good news for you." Dimitri answered from somewhere in front of her.

"Y…you have John?" Molly gasped.

"No, but we are about to pay him a visit. Do be a good girl while we are gone, I would prefer it if we didn't have to harm you, but that doesn't mean we won't if necessary. Understood?"

Molly nodded, and she heard footsteps withdraw from her.

"You lot with me, Byron, you stay here and guard the girl." Molly could hear Dimitri barking orders across the room.

"What if the detective comes here while you're gone?" A voice answers.

"He's fast, but I do not believe he is that fast. He likely will not have realised she is missing yet. But _if_ he does, you know your orders. Tranquilisers only, we want him alive. Restrain him and wait for me to contact the boss when I get back, and find out our orders if he is found alive. If he is any trouble, use the girl. Hurt her, threaten her, kill her if necessary; we won't need her anymore once we have him. That should bring him to his knees. " Dimitri replied.

Molly let out a quiet gasp. The boss must be Moriarty. They were Jim's men, and they were after Sherlock. They must have figured out that he was alive, but want proof before they could tell Moriarty.

Molly was conflicted. She had been holding on to the hope that Sherlock would realise something was wrong when she didn't come home, and that he would find her and rescue her. Now though, she hoped he realised what was happening and had the sense to stay away. There was too much at stake. He would be captured, they would tell Moriarty and he would give the order to kill John, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson, and possibly her as well, if they hadn't already killed her. And then who knew what they would do to him?

Perhaps he would figure out where she was and send someone else. The police, or John, if Dimitri's men didn't have him. They said they were only going to pay him a visit, but she didn't trust that. She was as scared for John as she was for herself.

Either way, she was on her own for now at least. She needed to prepare herself. Detaching herself mentally, she went through it in her head. She knew John wouldn't give them anything; he was incredibly loyal, and she knew his loyalty would be with Sherlock. Not that he wouldn't care that she was being threatened, but he was a soldier, trained to make hard decisions in the name of the greater good. When they came back, unable to get anything out of John, they would question her. Or maybe they would just hurt her, and make John watch if they had him with them. Or send him pictures if they didn't. Probably it would be a combination of both.

There were 4 ways she could see that she could respond. 1. Tell them the truth about Sherlock. Simply not happening. She resolved that no matter what she would never betray him. 2. She could be strong, defiant. Make it clear to them, as she had to Sherlock, that she was unbreakable. 3. She could be a blank slate. React to nothing. Apathetic rather than defiant, but equally unbreakable. 4. She could be pitiful. She could beg and plead, cry so hard she could barely speak a word and let them think she was broken, but with simply no information to give them.

Although her stubborn side balked at the idea of showing weakness to these men, preferring the idea of defiance, the logical side of her knew that the harder she resisted the harder they would try to get the information out of her, knowing she was hiding something. If she acted broken, with no information to give, they were much more likely to back off. Dimitri had already showed his hand, saying he would prefer not to hurt her. He was using her as a means to question John, rather than questioning her. He clearly had issues with the idea of harming a woman. She could use that against him, weakening his resolve to question her, by playing the weak woman. Yes, that was the best thing she could do, until Sherlock sent someone for her. Then they would regret laying a finger on her. She allowed herself a brief smirk, glad the hood concealed it, then put her plan into action, sobbing softly as she waited for them to get back and make the next move.

* * *

_AN: It's all happening now. Bet you didn't see that coming. If you are reading my other fic 'A New Page' in parallel, now would be the time to read chapters 8,9 and 10, to find out Sherlock and John's reactions to Molly being taken, and what happens when they try to question John. Even if you haven't been reading that story in parallel, you might want to read those chapters anyway, as it will make a lot more sense of things._

_And as always, thanks for the support and reviews, I love you all :)_


	25. Playing Hostage

**Playing Hostage**

Molly continued to sob quietly, unsure of how much time was passing, until she heard the others return. Judging by the slamming of doors and angrily barked orders, Molly assumed she had been right about John not giving them anything. She was pleased, though slightly fearful of what they might have done to him. She didn't have time to worry about that now though, as she heard a lot of movement going on around her. She turned her head towards the sounds, trying to make sense of what was happening.

"You lot, out of the way. Jason, get the camera."

Molly felt a jolt of fear, realising it was time. Her only comfort was if they were doing it on camera then they didn't have John. He was out there somewhere, probably with Sherlock, putting a plan together to find her. But she still had to get through this first. She focussed on her plan. Tears came easily, not entirely fake.

Another command had been issued and the room fell silent. Molly heard footsteps coming towards her, and turned her head, following the sound. They stopped beside her, and finally she was released from her the stuffy bag over her head, revealing Dimitri standing over her. She let out a feared gasp.

"Miss Hooper" he started "So sorry for the wait. We were hoping your 'boyfriend' could save us the trouble of questioning you, but he was… unwilling. And so it falls on your shoulders. Tell us, where is Sherlock Holmes?"

"I… I don't know" Molly said, stuttering deliberately as she cried. Dimitri was true to his word though, that he would hurt her if he had to; he mercilessly backhanded her across the face. It hurt, and Molly focussed on the pain, letting the fear show in her eyes as she looked back up at him.

"Do not lie to me! I will ask you again. Where is Sherlock?" He commanded

"I don't know" Molly repeated, exaggerating the shakiness of her voice "I just do the autopsies, I don't know where they are buried."

The second blow was as painful as the first. Her first thought was how much she was going to enjoy watching Sherlock or John make him pay for that, but she knew she couldn't afford to be so positive. She told herself they would not come for her, she wasn't worth it to them. She knew it wasn't true, but the idea hurt none-the-less. She started sobbing in earnest.

"Don't be clever Miss Hooper. Mr Holmes is not dead, we both know this. If you were responsible for his pathology report then you are responsible for helping him fake his death. Tell us where he is, and we might be merciful" Dimitri snarled at her.

It was easy to be scared now, she bowed her head, letting the fear overwhelm her. "He.. he jumped.. off… a building. There… were… witnesses. You can't fake… that. Please…. Is it not enough…to see the man I… I loved … dead…" She sobbed, barely-coherently.

Dimitri let out a cry of frustration, smacking her so hard the chair toppled over onto its side. She landed hard on her arm that was trapped by her tied hands. It wasn't hard enough to break or fracture the arm, but Molly howled as if it was. She cried even harder, even as she felt a swell of triumph, watching Dimitri walking away, clearly deciding she was no longer fit for questioning.

"Bring me the memory card from that camera. We have a delivery to make. And somebody clean up that mess!" Dimitri barked, walking out the room. The man with the camera rushed after him, while others came towards her. She kept up the act, cringing away from them, as they righted her chair, putting the bag back over her head. She let the crying subside slowly after they left, sure there was at least one man left in the room to guard her, and knowing it needed to sound authentic. She threw in the odd sniffle from time to time after.

She didn't know how much time was passing, or what was happening, except for the fact that the video of her interrogation was probably on its way, if not in the hands of John and Sherlock by now. She wondered how they would be taking it. She remembered Sherlock's face that time he had rescued her from the rapists. Seemingly cold and detached, but with a fury and violence bubbling under the surface. That's how he would look now. And John… John would be more visibly distressed, wearing his heart on his sleeve, until the time was necessary for him to put on his soldiers face. But both of them would be restless in doing something about it. If they could find a way to get her out, they would. A lot of time seemed to be passing, but it didn't make Molly doubt, every second was just a second closer to their rescue.

Molly suddenly realised her head was nodding. It seemed like it was going to be a long night. Part of her didn't want to sleep, not wanting to miss a thing, but the other part of her told her she might need to think quickly, or run at some point, so she needed to rest now while she could. Just a quick nap she told herself, although in fact she slept for quite a while. She couldn't be sure how long when she woke up. She didn't appear to have missed much, except more waiting.

After another unmeasured period, suddenly something seemed to be happening. She could hear a lot of movement and shouting. The door to the room she was in seemed to slam open, announcing an entrance.

"Peterson! I'll take over here, get out there and defend the main room." Dimitri ordered. She heard the guard he was addressing leaving, closing the door behind him. She gasped as she felt Dimitri approach her again. She was even more surprised when she felt her ties being undone.

"What's happening? What's going on?" She asked desperately. She heard gunfire in the room next to them and screamed. The bag was whipped off her head and she found herself looking down the barrel of a gun. She gasped and cowered.

"It's a police raid. Your boyfriend ratted on us, rather than man up and fight for you himself. What this means about his association with Sherlock, I don't know, but that doesn't matter right now. What matters right now is getting out of here, and you, Dr Hooper, are my get out of jail free card." Dimitri explained to her.

"W…what do you mean?" Molly asked nervously.

"You are my hostage of course, to dissuade the police from trying to follow me. Now on your feet!"

He ordered, undoing the last of her bindings. Nervously she stood, careful not to make any sudden movements, as his gun was still trained on her.

"This way" He said, getting a tight grip on her wrist and starting to drag her towards a backdoor. He stopped abruptly though, as the door from the main room burst open, policemen in raid gear bursting in. Dimitri spun, stepping behind Molly and pulling her tight to him as a human shield, his gun pressing against her temple.

"Don't come any closer, or I will shoot!"

* * *

_AN: For those reading my other story 'A New Page' in parallel to this, read chapters 11, 12 and 13 to see John and Sherlock's reactions to the video, and where they are at this point ;)_


	26. Heroes

**Heroes**

The policemen froze, not daring to come any closer and endanger Molly's life. Molly trembled as Dimitri started to pull her backwards with him, going for the backdoor again, ignoring the policemen's negotiations and barking at them to stay back again. Tension was thick in the air, as the cops warred with themselves, wanting to save Molly, and prevent Dimitri's escape, but unable to do anything without risking her life.

They reached the backdoor, and Dimitri pushed it open behind him, still keeping a close eye on the police. Suddenly he froze, as Molly heard a movement behind them.

"Game over Dimitri. Now _let the girl go_." Came John Watson's voice from behind them. Molly was both relieved and terrified at the same time. Although she couldn't see what was happening, she assumed John was threatening Dimitri somehow. But would that make him let her go, or would it inspire him to pull the trigger? She was in a very precarious situation right now.

"Ah, Doctor Watson, I wondered when you'd show" Dimitri said, casually, as if he wasn't in the middle of a rather tense stand-off. He made no move to kill her or release her.

***Click*** "I'm not playing here Dimitri, let her go or I will shoot". Gone was the warmth Molly was used to hearing in John's voice, replaced by cool command.

Time seemed to stand still, then suddenly speed up again, as Dimitri made his decision, throwing Molly away from him. She fell hard on the floor, but quickly spun to see what was happening. Dimitri dropped like a stone, knocked out by a heavy object in John's hand. Molly didn't get a chance to see what, as the room suddenly become full of activity, blocking her view. A few of the policemen came straight over to her, helping her up gently and asking if she was alright. Molly nodded, feeling slightly numb, and not really hearing their words or seeing their faces. There was only one face in the crowd she wanted to see, and her eyes frantically searched for it. When John made his way to her through the crowd, she practically tackled him, diving into his arms. He held her tightly, as relieved to see her as she was to see him.

"I knew you'd come" She murmured.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get here any sooner. Are you okay? They didn't hurt you too badly, did they?" He asked, pulling back slightly. She could see how worried he'd been as he made a visual examination of her, frowning at the bruising on her arm and face.

"I'm fine, just a few bruises" She quickly reassured him. She felt a little guilty, knowing how her acting would have affected John. "I…It… it wasn't as bad as I made it sound on the video, I-"

"I know" John told her quickly. '_He told me'_ went unspoken, but it was there in his eyes. Molly smiled in relief.

They carried on staring at each other for a few seconds. John seemed uncertain about something. Molly waited for him to say something, or to do something. She was feeling a bit shaky, and needed his comfort. John seemed to sense this, and he put his arms around her, pulling her back to him. She closed her eyes, feeling much safer in his warm embrace.

"Dr Watson. We're all done here, we need to head back to the station." A young officer came up and addressed John, causing him to let her go again. Molly felt awkward, uncertain what to do with herself now. She just wanted to go home. Again John seemed to know exactly what she needed, and asked the officer if he could take her home first. Arrangements were made, and it was all a bit of a blur to Molly, but before she knew it, a police car was stopping outside her building to let them out. John guided her up the stairs. He had her bag, and dug in it for her keys, letting them in.

Sherlock was waiting, as she knew he would be. Their eyes met, and she was startled by the depth of concern she saw in his.

"Molly. I'm so sorry I couldn't come." He said, his voice almost breaking with sincerity.

"I understand" Molly nodded reassuringly. She didn't need an explanation from him, she already knew. What she needed was comfort. She knew he was capable of it, he had taken such good care of her after she'd been attacked that time, but she had made a mess of that, trying to kiss him, so daren't ask for it again.

She didn't need to. Sherlock opened his arms in invitation, and she ran straight into them. She clung to him, her fingers knotting into the back of his shirt. His arms wrapped around her in return, and she felt truly and completely safe. All the protective barriers she had held up to help get her through the ordeal crumbled, and all the pain and fear finally got to her. She broke down, relying on Sherlock's strong arms to support her as she sobbed into his shirt. He didn't protest at all, letting her cry it out. One of his arms left her back and she missed it for only a second, as his hand cupped the back of her head instead, gently combing through her hair with his fingers, helping to calm her.

Molly heard John mutter something about needing to get back to the station, and the rumble of Sherlock's response, as Sherlock's hand lowered from her hair, settling around her waist again. Molly knew she should probably say something more to John in thanks for rescuing her, but could 't tear herself away from the comfort of Sherlock's arms. The door opened and closed as he left, leaving just her and Sherlock. He still didn't let go, and didn't say anything, simply holding her for as long as she needed, until the shaking left her body, and the tears died down to a more manageable level.

"I… I think I'll be okay now" She said, pulling back reluctantly. Sherlock's arms lowered reluctantly too, as his eyes examined her.

"You shouldn't have had to suffer this. I should have been more observant, I should have had my eye on the people watching John…" Sherlock muttered in apology.

"Don't do that to yourself, Sherlock." Molly told him firmly "Just don't."

Sherlock was silent. The look in his eye told Molly that she'd never convince him it wasn't his fault, and she didn't have the energy to fight him on it today. She sighed, walking around him to the kitchen, and pulling out ingredients for dinner. A rather early dinner, but she was rather starving. Out the corner of her eye she saw Sherlock walk past her into the bathroom. He came out a minute later and took the utensils out of her hands.

"You have a recipe for this?" he asked.

"Um… yeah, but I don't need it." Molly answered confused.

"I will. Where is it?" He asked, opening the cupboard where she kept her recipe books. Molly took the right one out and opened the page for him "Thank you. I can manage this. The bath is running for you. Go, get in, relax, clean yourself up a bit. I'll call you when dinner is done."

Tears rose in Molly's eyes again at his kindness. He seemed to know exactly what she need.

"Thank you" She whispered, wiping her eyes and going to get her bath. He had put bubbles in it and lit candles and everything. Molly laughed slightly.

She had the best men in her life a girl could possibly want.

* * *

_AN: The last few chapters of 'A New Page' are now safe for you to read if you are reading the stories in parallel. But don't worry, just because that one is over, doesn't mean this one ends with it, I'm carrying this on a little longer, it still has some interesting twists and turns left in it ;)_


	27. Our Time Is Running Out

**Our Time is Running Out**

Molly took her time with her bath, but was still done in plenty of time before dinner should be finished. Should could just about make out John's voice now, having got back from the police station, and wanted to thank him properly. She wrapped her hair, then herself in towels and opened the bathroom door, about to emerge, but stopped when she heard what the men were talking about.

"You've been acting very… differently, with Molly. I've been noticing it ever since you told me you were alive." John was saying "Is there something you're not telling me? Like, are you two a couple now or something? Because if you are - "

"I've told you already, John, I consider myself married to my work. And Molly knows that too. Living with her has maybe opened my eyes a bit more to how to treat a woman, if you don't want to suffer their wrath, but that doesn't mean I'm suddenly interested in a relationship. And I'm just taking extra care of her today because she took such good care of me when I needed it. I never let my debts go unpaid" Sherlock's voice explained

"Oh. Right. Makes sense I suppose"

"So, what happened today, I need all the details."

Molly gently shut the door again, backing away and sitting down on the toilet seat. She sucked in a breath, surprised to find herself crying again. She would have thought she'd run out of tears by now. It was silly really, to let what he was saying hurt her. He _had_ told her, time and time again, that he wasn't interested in a relationship. But she had thought she'd been making progress. She thought the way he was acting when she got back was a sign that with her in danger, he had finally realised how much she meant to him. Not just _repaying a debt._

A soft knock on the door made her jump. Sherlock's gentle voice was just another stab in the chest.

"Molly, dinner is nearly ready now. John is here. You probably want to get out now and get dressed."

Molly got up, wiping her face and slipping out the bathroom. She kept her head down, not bearing to look at Sherlock as she slipped into her bedroom to get dressed. She could hear the rumble of Sherlock's voice in the kitchen, talking to John even after she closed her door.

"I thought she'd be happier after a bath, she seems worse."

"She's probably suffering from a little PTSD, it doesn't go away that easily. Trust me, I know."

Molly didn't feel like getting properly dressed, even if she did have company. She towel dried her hair, threw on her pyjamas and a dressing gown and went back out. She could barely look at either of them, but certainly not Sherlock.

"Thank you for rescuing me, John. Sorry I didn't really thank you earlier." She said, fiddling with her sleeves. She sat down at the table.

"You're very welcome. I'm just glad you're okay" John said, sitting down beside her and putting a hand on hers in a comforting gesture.

Molly just nodded.

Sherlock put a plate of food down in front of her, and she could feel his eyes on her, but didn't look up. She mumbled a thanks and started eating.

"By the way, Lestrade said he'd send someone over tomorrow to get a statement from you, if that's okay. If you're not ready yet though, I can tell him…." John said gently.

"That's fine" Molly nodded. Her food tasted bitter in her mouth. She seemed to have lost her appetite. She poked at the food numbly.

"Actually, could you text Lestrade and ask him to come personally?" Sherlock said to John thoughtfully. "I could give him all my information on Moriarty's network then, without having to risk going to the Yard."

"Sounds like a plan" John agreed, pulling out his phone and texting.

Molly's face went white.

"You're giving him all your information? You mean you'll be coming out of hiding now?" She asked shocked, looking up at Sherlock.

"I've practically got all the information I need, and with the loss of his surveillance network, now would be a good time to strike." Sherlock answered logically. His eyes narrowed, taking in her response however.

All Molly could think was:_ I'm out of time. He's leaving me. He'll go back to 221b and I'll only ever see him when he needs something from the lab. _She wasn't ready for this yet, she needed more time with him, but it seemed her time had run out.

"I'm not hungry anymore" She said, pushing her plate away and getting up, attempting to retreat to her bedroom where she could process this in peace.

"Molly!" Sherlock called sharply to stop her. His voice softened when she stopped and turned to face him. "There was a time when I wasn't hungry, and you made me eat because you knew I needed it. Now it's my turn. You need to eat, Molly."

His words sounded like an echo of what he said earlier. _I never let my debts go unpaid. _She burst into tears again, turning and fleeing the room, slamming her bedroom door after her.

Sherlock and John stared after her in shock. Sherlock got up, picking up her plate as if to take it to her, but was stopped by John's hand on his arm.

"Leave it. She'll eat when she's ready, give her some space for now." He said softly. Sherlock took his seat again, very concerned about Molly.

* * *

_AN: Forgot to mention on my last one: I am delighted that I now have 100+ followers. So a MASSIVE thanks to all of you for your support, you are the 100 reasons that keep me writing this and loving it. And I always love hearing from you all in reviews, so keep them coming and I'll keep up the regular posting. I'm actually now considering extending my plans for this fic, in light of the love its receiving._


	28. This Isn't Goodbye

**This Isn't Goodbye**

Molly didn't leave her room again late the next morning. She heard the knock on the door, signalling Lestrade's arrival and realised she should probably get up and dressed. She tried to hurry, not wanting to keep the DI waiting, but there was no need. From her bedroom she could hear conversation, as Sherlock let him in himself.

"Good morning Inspector" Sherlock said casually.

"Blimey. John told me you were alive, but I don't think I quite believed it till now. Good to see you again, Sherlock." Lestrade replied in surprise

"You too, Lestrade. I assume you have plenty of unsolved cases lined up for me at the Yard when this is all over?"

"You bet I have. John tells me you have some homework for me as well? Said you had enough info to take down half of London's criminals in one swoop."

"Of the dangerous ones at least. I'm transferring it onto an external hard-drive now, should be ready by the time you're done here."

Molly took that as her cue, coming out of the shelter of her bedroom.

"Morning Lestrade." She greeted him, making her way to the sofa and gesturing for him to take a seat also. She felt his eyes sweeping over her, full of concern.

"Molly. It's good to see you safe and sound. Gave us a good scare you did. This shouldn't take too long." He said gently. He took out his recording equipment and asked her to describe what had happened, adding a few questions along the way to get her to clarify details. All the while Sherlock hovered behind her, obviously listening carefully himself. His hand was laid gently on her shoulder, giving gentle reassuring squeezes whenever she stuttered or struggled to answer through emotion.

"Thank you Molly, that was good." Lestrade said when she finished, turning off the recording equipment. "If it's any consolation, we have all the men directly involved in the kidnapping in custody, and are doing everything we can to ensure a long sentence for this."

"I don't suppose I could persuade you to give me 5 minutes with them? Or at least Dimitri, their leader." Sherlock said coldly from behind her. Molly turned to look at him and shuddered at the look on his face. The same one she'd seen before when he'd contemplated hurting those other men who had attacked her.

"To do what?" Lestrade asked cautiously. Sherlock didn't answer, but the look in his eyes said it all. Lestrade sighed. "Much as I'd love to let you, Sherlock, it would be more than my job's worth if I did."

"Worth a try." Sherlock shrugged, the fire in his eyes cooling somewhat. His hand slid off Molly's shoulder as he went to his laptop to check the progress of the transfer.

"Thank you Lestrade. And can you thank all the officers involved in my rescue for me? I was a bit too in shock at the time to say anything." Molly asked Lestrade as he stood.

"You're very welcome darlin'. I'm sure they understood, but I'll pass your message on anyway." He told her with a wink. He then turned to Sherlock, who approached with the hard-drive.

"There you go Lestrade, everything you need to put away a large portion of Moriarty's network. Unfortunately I haven't managed to get a fix on Moriarty himself-"

"You don't think his body was just stolen from the morgue then?" Lestrade asked.

"I know it wasn't, I was there." Sherlock told him impatiently "As I was saying, I will keep looking for him, but hopefully this will be enough to distract him for the time being. But this is very important Lestrade; as soon as you make any move on this information, you're going to need to act quickly, and you're going to need to watch your back. An information dump this big could only possibly be me, and if news of it reaches Moriarty before you've made a big enough hole in his network, then your life will be in danger."

"I understand." Lestrade nodded, "John and Mrs Hudson will be in danger also, shall I take them into protective custody?"

"No, a move like that will be to obvious, you'd be better focussing your efforts on breaking up the network as quickly as possible. John is with Mrs Hudson already, he is a trained soldier and he knows the danger, he's well prepared." Sherlock assured him

"Right then. Better get to it." Lestrade nodded, slipping the hard-drive into his bag and letting himself out, with a parting nod to Sherlock and wave to Molly.

Molly waved back numbly. It was all happening now. She'd tried to make peace with that in the night, reminding herself that it was a good thing for Sherlock and the others, and it wasn't the end of things for her and Sherlock. She'd still see him sometimes, he just wouldn't be living with her anymore.

Oh, how she would miss living with him.

She didn't go back to her room, wanting to stay as close to Sherlock as possible in the time she had remaining with him. He was busy furiously typing away on his computer, seeking out a few last titbits of information to send Lestrade when the time was right. Molly sat beside him on the sofa, leaning her head on his shoulder while she watched TV; though she didn't have a clue what was happening on the screen. Her head was filled with Sherlock, the good times and the bad they'd had living together, and the way his eyes would occasionally flick to her as her worked, deeply concerned, but writing it off as post-traumatic stress.

"When was the last time you ate, Molly? Not including last night's dinner, which you hardly touched." Sherlock asked, his eyes again only flicking away from the screen to take her in.

Molly simply shrugged. Sherlock sighed, turning to look at her properly. He examined her like a puzzle, then he turned to the fruit bowl on the coffee table, grabbing an apple and passing it to her.

Molly ate it hungrily, causing Sherlock to frown even more. She knew she was behaving oddly, but didn't care sufficiently to change it. She finished the apple, throwing the core into the bin without getting up and settled her head back on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock stroked her hair just once, wearing the same look of concern, before turning back to his work.

It was nearly 5 o'clock that evening when Sherlock sent off an enquiring text to Lestrade and received a very excited phone call in return.

"I don't know how you do it man, but you are a genius. Those files you gave me were perfect, everything we needed to get the warrants and get out there. I've got teams all over London right now, rounding 'em up. We've barely got enough holding cells to process them all!"

"Fantastic. And there's been no attempts on your life yet?" Sherlock asked, grinning widely as his plan was falling into place.

"Nope, we took in his snipers in first to be sure. I bought in that Sebastian Moran character _personally. _So far none of them have known what's hit them, so news clearly hasn't got out yet, and by the time it does, I doubt there will be many left."

Sherlock laughed ecstatically, giving Molly a one-armed hug in celebration, before jumping to his feet. "Oh that is very good news. Lestrade, you have been magnificent. Keep up the good work and keep me updated."

He hung up, then quickly dialled another number

"John, I'm on my way over. Tell Mrs Hudson she's in for a big surprise!" He announced happily, grabbing his coat from the rack as he swept out of the flat.

And that was that. Just like that he was gone, on his way back to 221b and his old life, without so much as a goodbye. Molly sat abandoned on the sofa, pulling her knees up to her chest and staring at the door, until tears overcame her.

* * *

_AN: Thanks to the overwhelming response to the __**possibility**__ of me extending my plans for the story, you will pleased to hear I have come up with a few more ideas to keep this going. Keep the comments coming, I'm having a bit off a bad day today, so could really use some review love to cheer me up. _


	29. The Heart of Matters

_AN: For those of you who mentioned getting a little teary at other chapters: hold on to your tissue boxes, this is going to be a bumpy ride._

* * *

The** Heart of Matters**

Molly didn't know how long she had been curled up on the sofa crying, now lying on her side rather than sitting. She stopped though, when she heard a familiar voice from the doorway.

"John thinks you are suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, but that's not why you're crying now, and I doubt that's why you have been miserable all day either." Sherlock said softly. Molly's head snapped up to see him standing just inside the flat, looking at her with a truly sorry expression.

She shook her head, pushing herself upright and trying to control the tears.

"You heard me and John talking from inside the bathroom, that's why you couldn't look at me when you came out. Did you hear me telling him then that I would go to Lestrade? You did seem genuinely surprised when I mentioned it again at the table." Sherlock deduced. His eyes stared into hers like he was reading the answers straight from her soul, as he moved closer, taking a seat opposite her.

Molly shook her head.

"What did you hear?" He asked, his tone was carefully neutral, while his eyes communicated his concern.

"It was all just repaying your debt to me for saving you. Is that why you found it so easy to just leave without saying goodbye? Because your debt is paid now?" Molly said quietly, unable to look Sherlock in the face as she did.

Sherlock gently put his fingers under her chin, lifting her face to him as he answered. "It wasn't _just_ repaying a debt. And as for leaving, I was coming back. I didn't want Mrs Hudson to have to hear I was alive by some 3rd party. She deserved to find out from me, so I wanted to make sure she did before the news caught on to what was happening. And now I'm back."

"But for how long?" Molly whispered, her eyes swimming.

"Just to get my things and say a proper thank you and goodbye." Sherlock said, with a sorry smile.

Molly burst into tears again, throwing her arms around his shoulders and holding him tightly.

"I don't want you to go!" She sobbed.

Sherlock allowed her a brief hug, rubbing her back, before pulling away.

"It's not the end of the world, Molly. You won't have seen the last at me. Once I'm back on the case I'm sure you'll see plenty of me at Barts. And I'm sure I speak for both John and Mrs Hudson as well when I say you will be welcome at 221b any time. You've been a good friend to all of us." He said warmly, one hand still on her shoulder.

Molly shook her head slightly. "That's not what I want, Sherlock. I want to be more than friends."

Sherlock pulled his hand back, shaking his head as he stood "Molly we've been through this. I am married to my work, I am not interested in-"

"No." Molly cut him off. She stood to match him, although her shorter stature made the gesture less impressive. "No, I don't believe you Sherlock. All your excuses; they're all lies. Lies you tell yourself and others to cover up the fact that you are simply too scared to let yourself love anyone."

Sherlock's head tilted back slightly; the only outward sign he'd allow that she had surprised him with her deductions. "Love is a weakness. Sentiment is chemical defect found in the losing side. It is a distraction from what is important." He said coldly. "Perhaps if I hadn't allowed myself to be distracted by _sentiment_ I would have been able stop those men ever taking you. Any time I allow myself to get distracted by a _woman_ it only leads to trouble. I should have learnt my lesson last time."

Molly felt her temper rising at his stubbornness "You mean with that Adler woman? You can't base your judgements on women on what happened with her! She… she was a piece of work, she was a manipulative, unscrupulous, deceitful, self-centred-"

"**That's enough!**" Sherlock snapped. His eyes were wide with hurt and anger. "I will not allow you to talk about her like that."

Molly flinched at his harsh rebuttal. She shook slightly, terrified to be on the receiving end of his anger. She took a deep breath, softening her speech. "Okay, I'm sorry. I understand, your feelings for her were very strong, and she hurt you. But you'll never get over her if you never let anyone else show you how good it can be to be loved by someone who truly cares for you."

"I don't need to get over her, I am over her!" Sherlock insisted "She is just a reminder to me of what I already knew. All lives end, all hearts are broken. _Caring is not an advantage!"_ He quoted what his brother had told him.

Molly simply stared at him for a moment, seeing through him as she weighed his words carefully before choosing her answer.

"You're right, Sherlock. Caring does come with its disadvantages. But that doesn't mean you are immune to it. Why else would you jump off a building to save the lives of those you knew, if not because you cared about them? There was never a guarantee you'd survive."

Sherlock stiffened. "It was one life for three. It was the only right thing to do." He said blankly.

"Okay. But when you came to me for help, you suspected something similar, but you thought it was just John. One life for another, a fair trade. Would you still have jumped?"

Sherlock's jaw tightened, a crack showing in his resolve. "Yes."

"What if it was me?" Molly asked in a small voice, her heart in her mouth. She knew she was setting herself up for a potentially painful answer, but she had come to far not to continue.

"Yes." Sherlock's voice had dropped an octave as he said it. His hands were shaking faintly and his face was struggling to remain impassive.

"You see?" Molly asked in breathless relief "You _do_ care. You care just enough to let it hurt you, for it to be a disadvantage, yet you don't allow yourself to care enough to enjoy the benefits. How is that logical?"

Sherlock was speechless. His arms fell down to his side, his whole body frozen in the shock. His expression was empty, his eyes staring blankly through her as though he had retreated into his mind. Molly waited with bated breath for him to come out of his trance, but he didn't. Instead he walked almost mechanically from the flat without a word. Molly sighed. He hadn't rejected her reasoning, therefore she could only assume he was going to think about it. She would just have to wait. He'd be back anyway; he had left empty handed again, and would have to come back for his laptop and other stuff.

* * *

_AN: Thanks for all the comments yesterday, was greatly appreciated. You can stop begging for an extension now though, I already said yes. :P_


	30. Lessons in Love

**Lessons in Love**

"Hey John, what's up?" Molly answered her phone

"Hey Molly. Um… It's Sherlock...I think there's something wrong with him" John answered tentatively

"What? What's wrong with him?" Molly asked quickly, sitting up straighter in her chair.

"Well… it started Thursday night…one minute he was fine, exuberant actually, that everything was going so well with bringing down Moriarty's network. Next he comes home looking like he's seen a ghost, and disappears into his room without a word. He's been in there 3 days. Hasn't said anything, hasn't eaten anything… he's practically catatonic." John explained.

_Oh no. I've broken him._ Molly thought _I've broken Sherlock Holmes._

"Did something… happen, while he was at yours?" John asked hesitantly.

"Uh…w…We had a…an argument. I… I didn't want him to go." Molly hedged.

"Well I can't think of anything you could possibly have argued about that could have done this to him." John said dismissively "Maybe something happened on his way home?"

_You have no idea_ Molly thought. "Maybe I should come over… see if I can talk to him?"

"That would be good. I've got to go to work soon, I'd feel a lot better knowing you were here to keep an eye on him." John said, sounding relieved.

Half an hour later Molly knocked on the front door of 221b Baker Street, with a bag full of Sherlock's things he had left. It was Mrs Hudson who opened the door. She was wearing one of her best dresses and looking happier than Molly had seen her in a long time. She immediately pulled Molly in for a hug.

"Molly! Oh how wonderful to see you. I cannot thank you enough for looking after Sherlock all this time. It's so good to have both the boys back under my roof again, and it's all thanks to you! Very good job you did pretending not to know though, I must say. I shall have to watch out for you."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't enjoy having to lie to you." Molly grimaced.

"Oh, I understand completely dear, Sherlock explained it all. That's before he went into this weird mood of his, that is. We can't seem to get through to him. I even made one of his favourite cakes, and he didn't touch it. But maybe you can get him to talk to you. He's up in his room. Give me a shout if you need anything."

"Okay, thank you Mrs Hudson." Molly gave her a smile before heading up to the boys' flat. It looked virtually the same as last time she'd been here, except the few things that had been boxed up had been unpacked, and there were a few more signs of life, the mug on the coffee table and plates by the sink. Molly put the bag of Sherlock's things down and knocked on the door to Sherlock's bedroom. No response.

"Sh… Sherlock?" She called nervously. "It's me. Molly. I'm coming in, if that's okay." She had walked straight in after the first knock many times back at her own flat, but this was different. This was his. Still, he didn't protest, so she slowly opened the door, peering in.

Sherlock was sitting on the edge of his bed, in the same clothes he had left her flat in. He had been staring blankly at the wall, but as she entered he turned to face her. His expression was carefully blank, though his eyes told of his inner turmoil.

"You were right." He said softly. He swallowed. "About everything, you were right."

Molly smiled gently, relieved he was talking to her, and pleased at his admission, though hardly daring to hope for what it meant. "Then why are you hiding away in here?" She asked, taking a seat beside him on the bed.

Sherlock turned to look at her. There was a vulnerability it his eyes she hadn't seen before. His voice was missing its usual confidence when he answered quietly "Because I'm scared. Scared I can't be who you want me to be."

Molly gave him another reassuring smile, her hand gently cupping his face. "I just want you to be _you_. With me by your side. What we had going back at my flat was wonderful, you were really beginning to relax with me, to open up, telling me all about what you'd been doing, whether it made sense to me or not. I liked it."

"Telling you what I was up to was not me opening up, it was me showing off." Sherlock corrected her "If I was opening up I'd have told you how much your cooking reminded me of Mother's, or how I secretly enjoyed it when you bossed me around. Or how jealous I felt whenever you came back from a date with John. Or how pretty you look when you smile."

Molly gasped slightly. She had not been expecting such a response from Sherlock. It shocked her that he had thought so much about her.

"I… I had no idea." She stuttered, her heart thumping.

Sherlock smiled at her reaction. "I'm not very used to speaking about my inner thoughts or feelings, but I could get used to it, for you."

"That would be good," she said breathlessly, captivated by his eyes and the genuine love that shone from them. She laughed slightly "You see, you had nothing to be scared of; you're perfect at this. All you need is to be a bit more physically affectionate maybe-"

"You mean sex?" Sherlock asked bluntly, a slight wall re-emerging behind his eyes.

"Not just sex." Molly said, blushing at his straight-forwardness "There's a lot more to it than that. Like… kissing, or just holding hands."

Sherlock's eyes dropped to her hands, which were now in her lap. He picked one up, so gently, as if she were something delicate. His thumb brushed softly over her knuckles, his eyes widening slightly as he marvelled at the softness.

"I think I can manage that." He murmured, lifting her hand a little higher and bowing his head to meet it, pressing his lips to it tenderly. Molly inhaled sharply at the sensation but daren't say anything and end the moment. Sherlock gauged her reaction with satisfaction, and repeated the action, running his lips to a little higher this time. Molly's arm jerked slightly involuntarily, as she was very ticklish, and a wicked grin appeared on Sherlock's face. He would remember that fact. Feeling merciful however, he released her hand, raising his head once again to look into her eyes. His actions had bought them closer together, and they were sitting very close.

As their eyes met she leaned even closer, and Sherlock knew what was coming. They had kissed twice now, but those times didn't count. The first time she had kissed him, and he had rejected her. The second he had kissed her as part of an act to convince her family he was a made up boyfriend of Molly's and not himself. This would be the first time they would kiss out of mutual want. And Sherlock wanted to make it_ count_.

He closed the distance, brushing his lips against hers tenderly, before making firmer contact. In the past he had mercilessly made fun of her for her small lips, but it had always been a cover for how he couldn't help noticing them, wondering how they would feel against his. Now he knew. Their lips moulded together perfectly, moving in sync; slowly at first, taking their time to get to know one another. Then with increased speed and passion, not being able to get enough of each other. Sherlock was hesitant however, still getting used to it, and afraid of being too rough with her. Molly coaxed him with her lips though, leading and teaching him that he needn't be so restrained, and he soon got over his fears. Noticing that the angle she was holding her neck at to kiss him couldn't be comfortable, he pushed her back so her head rested against the headboard for extra support. She broke the kiss with a giggle.

"A bit eager aren't you, Mr Holmes?" She said playfully.

It was then Sherlock noticed how tangled their bodies had become in the move. The angle of his body over hers, and the way their arms wrapped around each other to support the position was certainly suggestive that things were getting a little carried away. He pulled back, separating their bodies.

"I'm sorry" he said stiffly, his lips and cheeks flushed from the encounter.

"I really didn't mind." Molly said, equally flushed as she sat up, and caressed his arm.

"I know, but…" He took a deep breath, still struggling with opening up, but determined to make the effort for her. "I was raised in a very proper manner Molly. I admit I may have let myself slip in several areas, but this is one where I think I would like to do things properly, if that's alright with you. You deserve to be treated properly. I have no desire to hurt you Molly, but if things don't work out between us it will be difficult enough for you without that added level of intimacy. Therefore I would prefer to wait until I am sure that I am ready to spend the rest of my life with you before taking that step."

Molly drew a deep breath. His desire to protect her heart was so noble, it made her love him all the more.

"So I guess I won't be able to convince you to move back in with me yet then?" She joked.

Sherlock smirked. "John and Mrs Hudson have only had me back 3 days, and I haven't been very sociable in that time. Best give them a bit longer."

* * *

_ AN: I've had quite a few requests from reviewers asking if I can make my chapters longer. I will try and work on this, but I make no promises. Please bear in mind that the next 2 or 3 chapters have already been written, so the changes won't happen until later. This one being a bit longer was just a coincidence. Please keep the reviews coming, I love them all._


	31. The Other Guy

**The Other Guy**

The next day Molly was in a fantastic mood. Even the massive workload she had to catch up on couldn't dampen it. She felt like she was walking on air as she moved around the morgue, a massive smile on her face. She was in her office catching up on paperwork when she felt a pair of arms slip around her from behind, making her jump slightly.

"Guess who?" said a voice in her ear, but not the right one.

"John? What are you doing here?" She asked, turning to him in surprise. "Does Sherlock need a body or parts for a case already?" She looked around for her detective and was disappointed not to see him.

"Does a guy need an excuse to visit his girlfriend at work?" he replied not letting her assumptions affect the huge smile on his face, perching on the desk next to her. "Sherlock's at home, Lestrade returned his hard drive full of unsolved cases. He won't need me for a little while, and he'll text when he does, so I figured I had time to come see you, and thank you. I don't know how you did it, but he's completely back to normal now."

"That's good." Molly said, feeling uneasy at the way he still referred to her as his girlfriend. "Um… you… you do realise that now Sherlock is officially back we don't need to keep pretending to be a couple, don't you?"

John laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at his shoes. "Yeah, I know, but… well, I really enjoyed our dates, and… and if I'm not mistaken you seemed to enjoy it too, so… so I was thinking, what if we stopped pretending and started seeing each other for real?" He looked back up at her, a boyishly hopeful expression on his face.

Molly closed her eyes, not bearing to look at the hope in his, and feeling terrible for him. She sighed, opening them again to look at him. The hope in his eyes wavered at the pity in hers.

"I'm sorry John, I really did enjoy our dates but… it was never more than an act for me. I see you more as a brother than a boyfriend. Besides, I'm kind of seeing someone else now…"

"Oh. I see" John said, looking rather disappointed, staring at his shoes again. "Well uh… I hope you're very happy with this new guy of yours. Really. Do I… know them?"

Molly nodded, biting her lip nervously. "Sherlock" She breathed his name, feeling guilty about the thrill it gave her "I'm surprised he didn't tell you himself."

John's eyes widened, then creased in a frown. He straightened away from the desk, "I'll have to ask him about it." He said sharply, before turning and marching out of the room. Molly bit her lip again. There went her good mood for the day.

* * *

Sherlock had sorted through the data Lestrade had given him and found a very promising case. He was busy making a mind map of all the relevant data on the mirror when he heard the front door slam, and the footsteps storming up the stairs to their flat.

"**What the hell, Sherlock!?**" John stormed in shouting. Sherlock turned to him with a raised eyebrow that only seemed to incense John more. "You told me that you and Molly weren't a couple, and that you had no interest in becoming involved with her. But Molly seems to think that you are. I've just spoken to her at the hospital and made a complete fool of myself asking her out, only to be told that she's already seeing someone, and that someone is you! So either you lied to me about not seeing her, or you're rather cruelly leading her on, both of which are completely out of order. So which is it?"

"Neither." Sherlock said, turning back to his mind map and continuing to assemble it "When you asked me about it I told you the truth, but the situation has changed since then. Yesterday in fact, I would say was our official start as a couple."

"Well congratulations." John spat sarcastically, though most of his anger was dissolved by Sherlock's explanation. "You could have told me."

"I didn't see that it was any concern of yours." Sherlock answered simply.

"How is not any concern of mine? I've been dating her for the past month and a bit!" John pointed out, glaring at Sherlock's reflection in the mirror.

"You've been pretending to date her as a cover to keep Moriarty's network from discovering that I was alive, a cause which ended 3 days ago when Moriarty's network was taken down and I was finally able to come out of hiding." He corrected, then his eyes widened as they did when he made a vital connection on a case and he spun to face John, "Except it wasn't pretending for you. You really started to like her, and grew attached to the idea of her as your girlfriend. John, I am so sorry, I didn't realize. If I'd have known I would never have started anything without speaking to you first. Did you want me to…" He seemed pained by what he was offering

"Don't even think about it." John replied firmly, before sighing "I care enough about her to want her to be happy, even if it's not with me. You're the one she wants, the one she's always wanted. But I hope you know what you're doing, because if you break her heart, I will have to hurt you."

"I'd let you. I am taking precautions against it, though I make no promises. This dating business is all new to me after all." Sherlock reassured him "Now enough about my love life, we're going to Camden, to see a man about some suspicious jewelry." And with that he swept from the room, grabbing his scarf and coat on his way out. John glanced over the mind map on the mirror and smirked before following the detective.

* * *

_AN: Thanks for all the reassuring comments about the length of my chapters, afraid this one is a bit shorter than I'd have liked though._


	32. As First Dates Go

**As First Dates Go…**

_Would you like to come with me on a date/case tonight? – SH_

Molly stared at the text in confusion. Did he mean a date _or_ a case, or some weird amalgamation of the two? Best to ask.

_What do you mean? X_

_There's a certain pub I need to visit tonight to intercept a stolen item. I thought we could go for drinks. I'll understand if you don't want too, after all it could be dangerous. What are those X's at the end of your texts? – SH_

Well at least he was honest about his intentions. Molly let out a little laugh. Only Sherlock could think of making a date out of something like that. Now knowing what it entailed she considered his offer. She'd only ever seen him work in the lab or on his laptop, she had never seen him in the field, and it felt like it could be an important step in their getting to know each other. He had mentioned that it could be dangerous, but after all she'd been through, she knew she could trust him to keep her safe. She was shy but she was never a coward. Decision made, she texted him back.

_I'll take my chances. What time are you picking me up? And the x's are kisses, silly, everyone knows that. X_

_20:00. Dress casual. X – SH _

Molly laughed again seeing the X at the end of his text. He was getting there. The time he suggested suited her too, she had been planning on staying a little late at work tonight to catch up a bit, and the time he suggested still left enough time for her to do that and have plenty of time to get ready. Not that Sherlock hadn't already seen most of the outfits in her wardrobe, but she could still at least _try_ to impress him.

Molly settled on her grey skinny jeans and a top her sister had bought for her and she had never worn. Red, tight and with a rather low neckline that barely covered her bra. She worried she'd be pulling it up all night, but so far it seemed to be behaving. Her matching red heels gave her a little extra height, which would be handy if the evening went well. Her last kiss with Sherlock had left her hungry for more. To emphasise the fact she picked out a red lipstick that matched the rest of her outfit. She knew he would pick up on it, he always did.

At exactly 8 o'clock he knocked on her door, just as she was putting the finishing touches to her makeup. She abruptly dropped everything, grabbed her bag and ran to the door, stumbling a little in her heels. She threw open the door, beaming.

Sherlock smiled affectionately back at her, before sweeping down her body with his eyes.

"Very nice. Although you may have slightly upped the chances of danger tonight with that outfit. No doubt I will not be the only male to notice, and I can be rather jealous." He smirked, making Molly shiver with excitement. "Are you sure you want to wear those shoes? I could hear your footsteps on the way to the door and it sounded like you were struggling to keep your balance. They are rather high for your taste."

"All the better to kiss you." She said, punctuating her sentence with a quick peck on his lips.

"Well then… shall we?" He grabbed a coat off the hook for her and wrapped his arm around her in one swift move, leading her away with him.

When they reached the pub Sherlock was taking her to, Molly couldn't help but tense a little and wrinkle her nose in distaste. I was one of the seedier pubs in town, with shady looking patrons and a rather rowdy atmosphere.

"Not the most romantic place for a first date, I know, but necessary. We can go somewhere else once my business here is concluded." The barman made his way over to him and Sherlock pulled out his wallet "A pint of ale please, and a glass of wine for the lady."

When they received their drinks, Sherlock lead Molly over to a table in the corner, one where he could easily survey the whole room.

"Why choose this for our first date, Sherlock?" Molly asked, though not accusatory, more curious.

Sherlock regarded her seriously. "You said you wanted me to be myself, with you by my side. This is me Molly, this is what I do, put myself right in the middle of dangerous situations to solve crimes. I wanted you to understand what you were asking, to see if you really did want to be by my side." His eyes did a quick flick of the room before settling back on her.

Molly smiled, putting her hand on his. Suddenly what had seemed like a very unromantic first date had become a lot more meaningful. She was glad she'd agreed to come. "So tell me more about what we're dealing with here." She asked, demonstrating her acceptance of the situation.

Again Sherlock's eyes scanned the room. "There's not a lot more to tell you. An item was stolen, I don't know what, classified information apparently, which is rather irritating when they expect me to find it. Never mind though, I'll find out when I intercept it. DNA analysis of the crime scene was able to identify our thief, but he's been elusive, so they called me in. A bit of digging with John this afternoon uncovered that this was the drop off point. No surprises there, this place is infamous for criminal activity. Drug dealers, thugs for hire, you name it. A lot of drops happen here. The owners turn a blind eye most the time, and the only time they don't is when they want in on the action." Sherlock explained.

Molly nervously looked around the room herself. "Is it safe for you to be here? Surely these people must be uh… not your biggest fans."

Sherlock smirked. "Not at all. Excuse me a minute." He said, standing.

"You can't leave me here alone!" Molly hissed, grabbing his arm.

"I won't be long. You'll be fine. Believe me, I wouldn't leave you otherwise." He said reassuringly, his eyes full of a confidence that calmed Molly. She let go of his arm, nodding. And he gave her a proud smile, before sweeping away and disappearing into the men's room.

Molly nervously sipped her drink as she waited for him, checking the time every few seconds. She nearly jumped when another man slid into Sherlock's seat.

"What's a pretty woman like you doing in a place like this, all alone?" He asked, leering at her. He didn't look like some kind of ruffian, just an average guy, a little overweight with short brown hair. His attention still made her uncomfortable though, and she hoped Sherlock would be back soon.

"A…actually I'm not alone. My um… my boyfriend is just in the toilets." She stuttered.

"Too bad for him." The guy said, downing Sherlock's beer. "If I had a woman like you on my arm, I wouldn't leave her for a second in a place like this."

"I…it's really fine." Molly stuttered, hiding behind a big gulp from her wine glass.

"No it's not. How about you let me buy your next drink, and I'll show you how a real man takes care of a lady."

"N…No thank you" Molly blushed.

"Is this man bothering you, Molly?" Sherlock asked sharply, arriving back at the table, but remaining standing, towering over the man in his seat. His eyes remained on Molly though, cold and dangerous, but awaiting her word. If she excused the man he would let him go, if not…

"No, in fact he was just leaving." Molly said, giving the man an out. Sherlock nodded, stepping aside to let the man pass. He wasn't quite ready to leave however.

"My offer still stands." He muttered in Molly's ear, making her lean away slightly, and question her judgement on the matter. Sherlock scowled at him as he stood, then noticed his empty glass on the table.

"And by the way," Sherlock said in a soft but dangerous voice as the man went to pass him, causing the man to stop. "Did no-one ever warn you not to drink from an unattended glass."

The man looked from Sherlock, back to the glass, then suddenly gripped his stomach, staggering slightly.

"What did you… you - " He swore at Sherlock, then swung at him, his swing going wide as he staggered more from whatever Sherlock had put in the drink. Sherlock dodged him easily, grateful for the man taking the first swing and giving him an excuse to take one himself. He sent the man crashing back into another table.

It was a spark to a powder keg, and just like that the room erupted into violence as the men from the table Sherlock knocked the man into came at him. Molly gasped, shrinking back a little, but not taking her eyes off what was happening before her. Usually she hated violence, but she couldn't help but appreciate the way Sherlock fought. As a doctor, she could appreciate the precision of his strikes, aiming for the vulnerable areas with just the right amount of force. For a man of more intellectual pursuits he was on amazing physical form. He kept himself between the fight and her, not allowing it to come anywhere near her or for her to be put in any danger. Despite the fact he was outnumbered he easily held his ground, and almost as quickly as it started the fight was over.

"Sorry about that" Sherlock said, sliding back into his seat beside her. His eye was beginning to blacken, and his cheek was bleeding, but Molly wasn't at all gentle when she grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him passionately. He didn't seem to mind, as he kissed her back with equal fervour, his blood already heated from the fight.

The kiss lasted some time, their bodies tangling on the seat until Molly pulled back, slightly embarrassed by her behaviour. She was never usually a fan of public displays of affection, but after watching him fight for her, she just couldn't help herself.

"Did you get what you came for?" She asked breathlessly. Sherlock nodded, his eyes still devouring her "Shall we go then?"

"Not back to the flat, not just yet." He warned, his voice gravelly .

Molly blushed, but smiled. "Well, we can't really go out anywhere for dinner with you looking like that."

"Take-away in the park?" He suggested.

"Fine by me." Molly agreed. They both stood, and Sherlock wrapped an arm around her waist as he started to lead her out of the pub. They both stepped over the man who had tried to chat Molly up.

"By the way, what did you do to the drink?"

"Best not ask."


	33. An Unwelcome Visitor

**An Unwelcome Visitor**

A few weeks passed, and though Sherlock still took John with him on most of his cases, he included Molly whenever he could. She spent almost all of her free time running around with him, and of course, still ensuring he ate regularly. They arrived back at her building one evening, panting and leaning on each other for support, laughing heartily at the misadventure they'd just had. The car they had attempted to chase halfway across London had got away, but not before Molly had managed to snap a picture of the number plate to send to Lestrade. Hopefully the police would pick him up, along with his loot of 1 prizewinning show-dog. They would get 'Mr Fluffy' back to his owner in no time.

After indulging in one of their usual post-action kisses against the wall outside, Molly dragged Sherlock into the flat to get something to eat before saying goodnight, but was stopped short when she saw who was waiting for them. All laughter stopped and Sherlock tensed behind her.

"Jim!" Molly gasped

"Oh don't mind me." Moriarty said, smirking from his seat on the sofa. "You lovebirds carry on."

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock said coldly, stepping around to stand beside Molly, his shoulder in front of hers, ready to defend her if necessary.

"Just popping in to see an old friend. _Molly_. How have you been?" He asked innocently, standing up and taking a step towards her, arms open for a hug. She gasped and leaned closer to Sherlock. He had similar ideas, pushing her behind him completely, baring his teeth at Moriarty.

"Touch her and I will kill you." Sherlock threatened.

Moriarty stopped in the middle of the room. "Oh. I actually believe you. It's funny you know, you picking up my cast-offs. Not that I mind, you can have her, she wasn't even that good. 3 dates we went on, and she didn't even put out."

Molly hated the reminder of their time together, and was hurt by his cruel words. She felt her eyes tear up at the degradation. Sherlock didn't take kindly to the way Moriarty was talking about her either, marching straight up to Moriarty and grabbing him by the throat.

"Watch your mouth" He snarled.

"Sherlock!" Molly screamed a warning, seeing a red dot appear on his back. Sherlock followed her line of sight and saw the dot, immediately let go, moving back. Surveying the room he noticed how Moriarty had deliberately placed himself in view of the window. Under the protection of a sniper.

"Well you didn't think I'd come unprotected did you? You may have broken my network down, but there are always guns for hire out there. And I'm not stupid. But it seems **you** are rather letting your emotions get the better of you. I expected better of you Sherlock, I really did." Moriarty chided playfully, before his expression changed to a deadly serious one. "Come that close to me again and he will shoot you. I promise you that."

Sherlock took a deep breath. He schooled his features to the emotionless mask he usually wore, his eyes the only window to the hatred burning inside of him. He walked up and down, in front of Molly. But it wasn't an agitated pacing, it was more a stalk. He would have been circling Moriarty, if it wasn't for the sniper sight he didn't want to cross. That and the fact he wanted to keep himself between Moriarty and Molly.

"Much better. Hello my old friend." Moriarty grinned.

"Why are you really here? To make a point, yes, but there's more than that. You want something from me." Sherlock said. He didn't take his eyes off Moriarty and didn't stop his protective pace in front of Molly.

"Very good. I need your help. That's why people come to you isn't it? You did such a good job of destroying my network, Sherlock. I put a lot of work into that. So now I'm giving you a chance to help me rebuild it. Won't that be fun?" Moriarty explained.

"And why would I do that?" Sherlock immediately responded.

"Because. You don't want me to destroy what's closest to you. The only reason you were able to save your friends before was because I gave you choice, I gave you a chance to save them. But you know as well as I do, Sherlock, if I had wanted to kill them I could have. I broke into your girlfriend's flat easy enough. This time I knew you'd be coming back with her, but imagine if I chose a time you wasn't." Moriarty suggested "I could do anything to her."

Sherlock's fists clenched. "Molly, I'm moving back in." He said sharply, his eyes flicking to her full of concern. Her own reflected trust, making him turn away quickly out of guilt.

Moriarty laughed. "You think that will save her? I could take her out a hundred ways, Sherlock, you wouldn't be able to stop me. I could send someone to her workplace to kill her, I could arrange a pick up on her way home. I could make sure she's collateral damage in one of your investigations. I could take her out with a sniper right here in the flat at any time, I could even do it when you're watching…"

"Stop it!" Sherlock demanded, feeling slightly sick at what he was saying, knowing it was all true.

"So you'll help me?" Moriarty asked, his eyebrows raised

"Never." Sherlock stated, steeling himself. He had stopped in front of Molly, and his hand reached back to brush hers, though he didn't allow her to hold it, quickly bringing it back to his side.

"Oh why do you have to waste so much time resisting." Moriarty grouched like a child " I know you enjoy a challenge, what could be a better one?"

Sherlock smirked.

"This."

He ran at Moriarty, grabbing him and spinning him just in time. The window broke, Molly screamed and both men fell to the ground with pained noises as the bullet tore through.

"Sherlock!" Molly screamed, starting towards him. He rolled quickly out of sight of the window, in time to avoid a second shot, and landed at her feet, his eyes screwed up in pain. Moriarty just twitched where he was, emitting choking sounds.

"Sherlock!" She refocused herself, dropping to her knees and ripping open his shirt to find the wound. The bullet had entered through his shoulder, and seemingly gone straight through. Molly started putting pressure on the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding.

"Sorry … about the mess" Sherlock murmured, opening his eyes to fix on her "You should call… the police."

"But the sniper…" She started

"A hired gun… no loyalties… his employer is as good as… dead… his target still alive… he'll… be running by now." Sherlock gasped out.

"Okay, try not to talk." Molly told him, his broken speech breaking her heart. Keeping pressure on the wound with one hand she pulled out her phone with the other and called emergency services. She glanced again at Moriarty and noticed he'd gone silent and still.

Sherlock could hear her talking on the phone, but the words were losing clarity as blood loss started to make him woozy. He focussed on pulling his phone out of his pocket, sending off a quick text to John, telling him to come to Molly's now. He had mistyped a few of the words, struggling with fine motor functions a little now. That should tell John just how urgent the situation was.

Sherlock felt himself fading fast, and fixed his gaze back onto Molly. She had tears rolling down her cheeks as she spoke on the phone, but his arms felt too heavy to brush them away. He struggled to hold onto his consciousness, hanging on just long enough to hear a knock on the door, and John's worried voice, before slipping away, content to know that Molly would be safe now.

* * *

_AN: Thanks for all comments and new followers. Seeing a few new names pop up in the comments every day, I do love hearing from you all._


	34. Guilty

**Guilty**

Sherlock awoke fuzzily. He recognised the feel of the mattress below him. Thin, economic, a hospital bed. Sure enough as his hearing kicked in he became aware of the steady beep of a heart monitor next to him. He opened his eyes to survey his surroundings. They'd given him his own room, that was nice. Molly was on a seat next to him, her head in her arms on the side of the bed. She wasn't asleep, he could tell by her breathing. He could see John by the window, keeping a vigilant watch on the streets below and the windows across the street, not taking any chances. Judging by the direction and quality of light coming through the window, Sherlock could tell it was rather early in the morning, round about 5 or 6am. But what day?

"How long have I been out? Days or hours?" he asked hoarsely.

Molly's head shot up. There were tearstains on her cheeks, but she looked hugely relieved at the sound of his voice. John turned from the window, with similar relief on his features.

"Hours. 9 to be specific." John answered

"Felt like days." Molly mumbled. Sherlock couldn't resist any longer, he weakly raised a hand to her cheek, which she leaned into.

"How long will they be keeping me here?" He addressed John over her shoulder.

"I don't know. We were supposed to call a nurse when you woke up. I'll go find someone." John answered, looking significantly between Sherlock and Molly before leaving. Sherlock knew what it meant. John could have used the nurse call button, but had opted to give them a moment of privacy.

Molly knew this also. "You stupid man." She half laughed, half cried "Why did you do that? You didn't have to-"

"Yes I did" Sherlock answered solemnly "Moriarty was right, he could have hurt you, killed you at any time and there would have been nothing I could have done to stop it." The beeping from the heart-rate monitor accelerated slightly as he remembered Moriarty's threats, but thankfully not enough to send alarm bells ringing. "As long as he lived you were in danger. I couldn't allow him to walk out of that room. He had to die. He did die, didn't he Molly?"

Molly couldn't help letting more tears escape her. Sherlock had risked his life to protect her. She took a big breath before answering his question "Yes. He's dead. For real this time. The bullet passed through his oesophagus and spinal cord on the way out. He didn't die instantly, but… but choked on his own blood before the ambulances arrived. I read the report." She nodded to the file on the table next to him. She knew he would want to see it, so had sent a request to one of her fellow pathologists to bring it up when he was done.

Sherlock glanced at the file, but didn't have the energy to pick it up yet. "I've never killed anyone before." He said distantly, not meeting her eyes.

Molly gasped, reaching a hand up to turn his face towards her. "Sherlock… it was the sniper who killed him, not you. Don't let it get to you."

"I knew what I was doing when I grabbed him Molly. I wasn't thinking the sniper wouldn't shoot if I could use Moriarty as a shield, no, I knew he would be pulling the trigger by then and deliberately put Moriarty in the bullets path. I didn't pull the trigger but I set its destination. I killed him Molly." He turned his face from her again. "You didn't want to see it that way because you don't want to think of me as a killer, but that's what I am now, and if you don't like that and want to end our relationship I will understand."

The thought had never crossed Molly's mind, and was surprised that he had come to such a conclusion. She shook her head vehemently. "You listen to me Sherlock Holmes, I am not leaving you. Okay, if you believe you killed him, so be it, but you killed a bad man to save me, and I could never hold that against you."

Sherlock turned back to her, looking surprised but pleased. He didn't have a chance to say anything though, as John reappeared again with the nurse. Her support meant a lot to him though, as did the similar supportive comments from the rest of his visitors throughout the day.

"Join the club." Was all John had to say about the subject of him killing Moriarty. They shared a secretive smile, remembering their first case together.

"You ensured the death of a bad man who deserved it, Sherlock, dear." Mrs Hudson said "Reminds me of how we met. You never let that get to you, you shouldn't be letting this."

"Why do you insist on making my life so difficult?" Lestrade asked, stopping the microphone recording Sherlock's statement.

"I would have thought it would make your life easier if all killers confessed to their crimes." Sherlock remarked, with all apparent seriousness.

"It would, but you're not the killer in this case, Sherlock, the sniper, whoever that was, is our killer. I neither need nor want you get in trouble over this." Lestrade insisted "I get what you're saying, I do, and I'm sure when this goes to court, you won't be the only one questioning your attack on Moriarty. But there are plenty of loopholes out there that could apply here; rights to defend your own property, self-defence if he was threatening you, or you could even say you were attempting to make a citizen's arrest. But either way, I'm gonna be doing everything in my power to make sure you get out of this scot-free, cos as far as I'm concerned, you deserve a medal for doing what you did."

His determination to take care of things for him warmed Sherlock, but he didn't smile. "Just as long as you know what kind of man you're dealing with, Lestrade." He said seriously.

"A great man, and a good one too. The kind of man who'd jump in front of a bullet or off a building to protect those he loves from a bad man. I've never been surer of you, Sherlock. Now, shall we try this again?" Lestrade rewound the recorder a little, pressing record, to record over Sherlock's previous statement with a new one. This time Sherlock co-operated with his wishes, telling the simple facts of the sequence of events.

Still, the end of visiting hours came as a relief to Sherlock, as he finally had the space to think. The only person left with him was Molly, who used her position at the hospital as an excuse to stay. He would be out of hospital again by the morning, but she didn't want to leave him even for that long.

"Did you mean it? When you said you were moving back in with me?" She asked, after a while.

"It was a feeble attempt to offer you more protection, which in any case is now unnecessary." Sherlock answered, though not really answering her question. He didn't look at her even, still staring up at the ceiling in thought.

"You could move back in anyway… even if it's not to protect me. I… I want you to." Molly suggested. His detached demeanour making her nervous of what he was thinking.

"Sorry." Was his only answer.

Molly looked down at her hands, twisting them in her lap, nervously. "Oh. I… I thought last night… If you… you weren't sure yet you wanted to be with me, why would you… be so ready to risk your life for me?" She mumbled.

This time Sherlock turned to face her. His hand gently lifted her chin to look him in the eye.

"It's not you Molly. I'm not uncertain in my feelings for you. It's this relationship I'm not sure about" He released her chin, leaning back and not looking at her again "Moriarty may be dead, but there will be others like him, others who will want me out of the picture, and who will see my loved ones as a means to get to me."

It was all to protect her. Molly was touched by his level of concern, but couldn't allow his thoughts to carry on down that path. If he meant to break up with her to keep her safe, she wouldn't never allow it. "I'm not afraid" she assured him.

"But _I am!_" Sherlock said through gritted teeth "And that worries me almost as much. Moriarty was right, I let my emotions get the better of me in there. I let it cloud my judgement. I should have noticed the way he positioned himself in front of the window, should have realised he had a sniper, after all, it is his modus operandi. But I didn't, I attacked him. That could have been a fatal error. I can't allow that to happen again."

Molly felt his words sink through her like a lead weight, leaving her cold and numb. "What are you saying?" She asked through trembling lips, feeling moisture building in her eyes.

Sherlock turned back to her, looking confused at her tone of voice. He took in her tense stance and cupped her cheek in his palm

"Not that. I just need time, Molly. I don't want this to interfere with my work, but I don't want it to end either. I tried to block out the emotions after that, lock them up somewhere in my mind palace. It was fairly efficient, it helped me do what needed to be done. If I can… develop that ability, to shut off my emotions only when necessary… this could work. I could be with you and keep you safe." He explained

Molly nodded, immensely relieved that he wasn't leaving her. "More time then. I can manage that."

Sherlock smiled at her and shifted right over in his bed, wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her close.

"I love you, Molly Hooper" He whispered, saying those 3 words to her for the first time.

Molly's breath caught, and she was glad she wasn't the one hooked up to a heart monitor, as she was sure hers had skipped a beat.

"I love you too." She whispered back.

* * *

_AN: Hello my lovelies! Unfortunately I have been very busy lately, so have used up my stock of pre-written chapters. I had to write this one today, but tomorrow there is a very great possibility that I won't have time to write one. So, (shock horror) my great run of posting daily might be broken. I know, I'm as disappointed as you. I might not even get time Monday, but as soon as I can, I promise I will get another chapter to you all._


	35. A Two Patch Problem

**A Two Patch Problem**

"Hey. Is it a bad time, or can you talk?" Molly asked as Sherlock picked up the phone.

"For you, Molly, it is never a bad time." He replied charmingly, "I'm glad you called, I was getting bored just refreshing my inbox every 5 minutes to see if any new cases have come in. So far all I've got is a business man who wants me to find out which one of his employees his wife is sleeping with so he can sack them; a tedious waste of my time. Or a young child asking me to help find his Daddy, who apparently left after an argument with his mother, who won't say when he'll be back; standard domestic problem, also not worthy of my time. Please tell me you have something more interesting for me to look at?"

"Actually I think I do." Molly told him; it was why she was phoning in the first place. "White British male, mid-thirties, died of a nicotine overdose. He forgot he was wearing two nicotine patches and went out for a cigarette break, was found dead 10 minutes later by colleagues."

"Two patches and a cigarette shouldn't have been enough to kill him; I sometimes wear three." Sherlock interjected.

"_Okay_, we'll talk about that later, but you're right, it shouldn't have been enough to kill him. And here's where it gets even stranger; I've just finished with his blood work, and there's far more nicotine in his blood stream than two patches and a cigarette should have given him. Definitely a lethal dose there, but where did it come from?"

"Could he have smoked multiple cigarettes?" Sherlock asked, more to gather information than because he thought it was the cause.

"He might have done, but it would have taken a whole pack to get close to the levels I'm seeing here." Molly told him, rechecking her findings.

"Really. Well this_ is_ interesting. Mind if I come down to have a look?" Sherlock asked. She could already hear him putting on his coat and knew he was asking merely out of politeness.

"I was hoping you might." Molly flirted

Sherlock paused, uncertain. "Is everything okay?"

"Of course, I just missed you." Molly responded, laughing to herself at how Sherlock still seemed to struggle to understand things like this.

"But you only saw me last night." Sherlock pointed out.

"Doesn't mean I can't still miss you" Molly fiddled with her hair, enjoying herself.

"Oh. Well I'll be there soon, okay?" Sherlock said, trying to be reassuring, making Molly laugh internally again.

"See you soon. Love you." She replied affectionately.

"Yes." Sherlock replied. Molly wasn't offended that he didn't say it back, she knew he wasn't comfortable using the term so casually, but felt it none-the-less. "John! Come on, we have a case!" She heard him shouting to his flatmate as the call ended.

15 minutes later, Sherlock swept into the lab, with John close on his heels. Molly jumped up from the paperwork she'd been filling out as she waited, going to uncover the body for them. Sherlock wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head in greeting before examining the body.

"So what do you think?" Molly asked, as if asking what he thought of dinner, or a gift.

"You were right to call me in, this was no accidental overdose, this was murder, and a clever one too. Oh Molly, you do know how to make my day." He smiled at her over the corpse, winking.

"Murder? How do you know?" John asked. Thankfully he was over Molly now, and could easily ignore their flirting without awkwardness.

Sherlock pointed to the man's left upper arm. "Gummy residue from the nicotine patches are on the left." He said, as if it explained everything.

"Yes, that's right, I took them off when I got him in." Molly agreed.

"Yes, but how does that prove that he was murdered?" John asked patiently "And don't roll your eyes at me, we can't all be genius'."

"Look at his hands, John! Nicotine stains predominately on the left, shorter nails on the left,

the slight difference in musculature…" Sherlock reeled off.

"Of course," John sighed as it clicked "Left handed, so the patches-"

"Would have been applied with his left hand to his right arm, not the left, if he'd applied them himself, which he clearly didn't. The murderer applied them post mortem to make it look like they were the cause of the overdose." Sherlock finished for him.

"So how did they get the overdose of nicotine into him then? I can't see any needle marks." John said, examining the body himself.

"I didn't see any either." Molly contributed. "I don't know how much more I'll be able to find out when I open him up, but I'll let you know if I do find anything."

"Thank you. We'll let you get on with that, while we see what we can find out from his place of work." Sherlock said, flicking through the dead man's file for the address. John nodded and started heading out the room, while Sherlock turned to Molly, stepping in closer to her for a kiss.

Molly gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Be careful." She whispered.

"Don't worry, I doubt this will be a dangerous one. The killers MO suggests a more passive aggression, surreptitious, unlikely to resort to violence." He assured her, then looked down at her hand moving up his arm. "I see. I'm only wearing one."

Molly smiled sheepishly. Of course he would know what she was doing. "I'll see you tonight?" She changed the subject.

"Of course. You'd miss me otherwise." He smirked, pulling back with a wink before leaving.

* * *

_AN: Yay, I did it, I managed to squeeze in time to write an update for today. It's a bit on the short side, but it's better than nothing. Attempting to write a proper case, apologies if I fail a little at it, I'm good with feelings and such but not very imaginative when it comes to cases and details and all that stuff._


	36. The Anti-Smoking Campaign

**The Anti-Smoking Campaign**

Matthew Thompson, the man murdered by nicotine overdose, worked in a fairly average office building in West London. Something to do with insurance, it didn't really matter to Sherlock. What mattered was _how?_ and _who?_, and he was determined to find out.

"I'm just saying, you're great with your deductions, but talking to people isn't really your speciality. Just let me do the talking, okay, while you look around" John was saying to him as they entered the building.

"Fine, go talk to people." Sherlock relented. They signed in at the reception, glad for the clearance Lestrade had given them, making it easier for them to investigate. Just as they were turning away from the desk to split up and go about their investigations, Sherlock spotted something and turned back, letting John go off on his own.

"Um… excuse me, sorry to bother you again," Sherlock said to the receptionist, doing his best to sound friendly and approachable, since John seemed to think he couldn't do it "What's up with these flyers?" He held up one of the flyers in question; an anti-smoking leaflet, but not from the NHS or any other known group.

"Oh, a guy brings them in, Mark I think his name was. Runs his own smoking help group in his spare time. He was telling me his story when he dropped them off this morning, it's quite sad really, he planned to travel the world, explore y'know, but discovering he had serious lung cancer caused him to have to rethink his plans. All because he smoked so much when he was younger. So he quit, cold turkey, and set up this group to help others. I was thinking of going, especially after what happened to poor Matt" The receptionist rambled off.

"Hmm. Me too. Thanks for your help" Sherlock said, tucking a flyer into his coat pocket and walking away. He made his way up to the office where the deceased man worked, giving the room a quick once over before heading to the man's desk. He could see John chatting casually with one of the employees, perched on the edge of the woman's desk. No doubt he would be leaving with her number, all the signs were there.

Sherlock returned to the task at hand; investigating the dead man's desk. Thankfully it was all still untouched, and he was able to glean a lot from it. Most importantly, in the top desk drawer was a tobacco tin, containing a pack of golden leaf, papers and filters, and a couple of pre-rolled cigarettes. Sherlock gave one a sniff and decided there was definitely something wrong about them. He pocketed the whole tin for further investigation, before heading down to the smoking area. Now he knew what type of cigarette the man smoked it would be easier to find the correct cigarette butt outside. Of course, there were several cigarettes out there that fit the description of what he was looking for, so he collected them all. If his theory was correct, a little examination under a microscope would soon differentiate.

Having found everything he needed, Sherlock sent a text to John telling him he'd see him back at Bart's, and headed back there himself. Molly was midway through the autopsy when he arrived back. Not wanting to interrupt her recorded notes he merely nodded to her, then headed up to the lab, taking a seat at his favourite microscope.

"Found something?" John came in asking, sometime later. "Cos I'm afraid I've got nothing. He seemed well liked, no-one in the office with any grudges against him or any possible motives. None of them had heard anything about him quitting smoking though, which confirms your theory about it being a cover up."

"Did you get her number?" Sherlock asked, dismissing the rest of what John had said. "I knew it was no-one in the office almost as soon as I looked round. The company makes a point of providing left-handed office supplies for those who are left handed, yet our man still preferred normal equipment held with his left hand; someone else's scissors were on his desk, and if he made a point of borrowing the others equipment they would have all known he was left handed. Our killer is too smart to have overlooked that kind of detail, had he known about it. But he didn't know, therefore he wasn't from the office."

"If you already knew it wasn't anyone in there, why did you just let me waste all that time talking to everyone in the office? And yes I did as a matter of fact." John replied huffily.

"Then I wouldn't call it a complete waste of time." Sherlock smirked. "You insisted on talking to them. Besides while you were busy with that, I made a lot of progress."

"Such as?" John asked, folding his arms and trying his best to be patient.

Sherlock held up the tobacco tin with one hand, looking back at its contents through his microscope.

"His cigarettes. His whole tobacco supply was laced with an extra helping of pure nicotine. More than enough to kill him. Very clever, the killer could be miles away before his plan goes into effect, and even if someone discovered the laced cigarettes, they could think he did it himself; an attempt to give his cigarettes more kick, gone wrong." Sherlock explained, smiling as he always did when presented with a particularly clever case.

"Except we know better, because of the patches. So any ideas on who the killer might be?" John asked.

"Just one." Sherlock said, pulling out the flyer.

* * *

_AN: Sorry for posting so much later than normal. Been a bit of a busy day, and I've been so tired, it's surprising I even got this done. It's not one of my best at all, but it'll do. I'll have to see how tomorrow goes whether I'll manage to post one. Thanks for your patience and encouragement :)_


	37. Group Therapy

**Group Therapy**

"What am _I_ doing here Sherlock?" Molly whispered as they made their way up the path to Mark Wallis's house and the smoking help group inside. "I don't even smoke!"

"Neither do I." Sherlock replied, patting the nicotine patch on his arm. "What's the problem, I thought you liked coming on cases with me?"

"I do, usually, when it's all running around and investigating. But I don't know if I can do this, you know what a bad liar I am. I've never smoked a cigarette in my life, I can't even work a lighter properly, how am I supposed to pretend to be a smoker? Besides, you promised me our next date would be a normal one!" She hissed as he rang the doorbell.

"Hmm, my bad, I'll make it up to you. And you're not a bad liar, you're one of the best I know, you just don't like doing it. But if it makes you uncomfortable to say you're a smoker, then we can just say you're my concerned girlfriend who dragged me to one of these groups to try and stop me smoking. It's near enough the truth." Sherlock murmured back as footsteps approached the door.

"Fine." Molly agreed, just before it opened.

"Hello?" The man they assumed to be Mark Wallis said opening the door. He was probably about Molly's age, with very short, blonde hair and an average build. Obviously Sherlock would be seeing a lot more, but Molly didn't meet his eyes or ask.

"Um, hi, we're here for the smoking group? Sorry we didn't call in advance." Molly said hesitantly.

"That's absolutely fine, you're here that's what matters. Come in, we were just about to start." He let them in, taking Molly's coats and hanging it up.

"Nice to see a couple supporting each other in giving up smoking." He commented as he led them down a hall.

"Oh no, I'm not a smoker. I'm just here for Ben." Molly quickly said. They had agreed the alias beforehand, and Sherlock was in his hoodie and jeans again, though he didn't look quite so different in them now his hair was back to its old length.

"She dragged me here." Sherlock backed her up, as they entered the living room.

"Well take a seat" Mark said, with a slightly strained smile for Sherlock's last comment. There were about 5 others in seats around the room, with plenty of empty chairs between them. Once they had taken their seats Mark sat down also, in a big armchair, looking around the group.

"Okay then. Nice to see so many new faces in our group. So I'll just start by telling you all a little about myself, then we'll go round the room so you can all introduce yourselves." He began. "So I am Dr Mark Wallis, I am a botanist, meaning I study plants. Plant extracts are useful for many things, from flavourings to dyes, to medicine. Modern medicine is becoming more and more synthetic, but I believe there are still plenty more cures to be found in nature. It was my dream to travel to world, to study more plants in the amazon rainforests, the many mountainous regions, and even in the deserts to try and discover some more of this untapped potential. I had almost everything in place, prepared for what was going to be the first of many trips, when I suddenly became very ill and had to be taken in to hospital. They discovered I had a very serious form of lung cancer. Regular trips to the hospital for check- ups, regular doses of chemotherapy and the fact that I have only a few years to live, have meant that all my dreams and plans would never be fulfilled. All because of smoking. I used to smoke between 30 and 40 cigarettes a day, but went cold turkey when I realised what it had done to me. Of course it's too late for me now, but it may not be too late for some of you; that's why I set up this group, to help people escape from this destructive habit, before the damage is done. So, now you know my story, it's time to hear some of yours. We'll go round in a circle, say as much or as little as you want…"

As Molly listened to the others in the circle, she couldn't help but feel a great deal of empathy towards them, and their struggles and any failures against a habit that was ruining them. Mark's story had touched her greatly. Sherlock may think he was the killer, but she wasn't so sure. He just seemed too… _nice_. She had been watching Sherlock out of the corner of her eye, gauging his reactions to everything. His impassive face didn't give much away, as good as she had become at reading him. She had noticed him subtly send a text out during the doctors introduction, but hadn't seen its contents. She was sure she would find out though. She was distracted from her thoughts though as suddenly all the eyes in the circle were on her. It was her turn.

"Um… hi… I'm Dr Molly Hooper. I don't smoke, I never have. I'm just here to support my boyfriend, Ben, really." She stuttered.

"What kind of doctor are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Mark asked her gently.

"A pathologist. I.. I do autopsy's and stuff. So, I see the effects of smoking almost every day. They put the pictures of smokers lungs on cigarette packets now, but it's much worse seeing it in real life." Molly said, building up a little steam on the subject "Like this morning, I had a man come in who had died from a nicotine overdose. His lungs were black with tar, and I also discovered some early signs of cancer there, that hadn't been spotted while he was alive. So even if he hadn't managed to overdose on nicotine, the smoking would have killed him some day. It's quite horrible. That's why I bought Ben here today, after seeing that."

"Good, thanks for sharing that with us Molly. Ben, what do you think of that?" Mark asked

"I know she's right, but we all have our vices that take their toll on our bodies. I try to be good, I rarely smoke cigarettes, it's almost impossible to maintain a smoking habit in London anyway. I rely on Nicotine patches mostly, they do a lot less damage." Sherlock made his excuses stubbornly, clearly a little irked at being under such scrutiny.

"Yes but nicotine patches are only supposed to be used to help wean people off smoking, not as a permanent alternative!" Molly insisted, getting caught up in it and letting her real concerns shine through

"Both very valid points" Mark said calmly, trying to defuse the situation, as Sherlock gave Molly a very irritated look and had opened his mouth to say something he would probably regret. "I was planning on doing a later session on nicotine patches, so we'll discuss the point further then. Moving on..."

Halfway through the next person's story, the doorbell went. Mark excused himself to get it, looking excited at the prospect of another person joining the group. When he came back he looked a lot less excited however, as he was followed by DI Lestrade, Sergeant Donovan, Anderson and a couple of other officers, with John bringing up the rear, carrying Sherlock's coat.

"I'm sorry, but the rest of today's session is cancelled."

* * *

_AN: Sorry about not updating yesterday. Funny, I managed to do both Sunday and Monday which I didn't think I would, then didn't quite finish one for Yesterday. Well here is, better late than never._


	38. A Scandal in Botanica

**A Scandal in Botanica **

The participants of the help group stood, warily making their way past the police in the hallway and making a quick exit. Sherlock and Molly also stood, and Sherlock collected his coat from John, positioning himself with the policemen to show he was with them.

"So um… when you say you have a warrant to search my house in relation to a murder… what exactly are you expecting to find?" Mark asked uncertainly, rubbing his arm and looking at Sherlock suspiciously.

"The Tobacco plants and equipment you used to extract the pure Nicotine you killed Matthew Thompson with, of course. We'll start with the greenhouse shall we?" Sherlock answered for Lestrade, nodding at the large greenhouse that took up much of the back garden. Lestrade nodded and waved for everyone to start following.

"K..killed… I didn't kill anyone! Why would I kill someone? I'm running a therapy group, for goodness' sake!" Mark protested, following them.

"Yes, a therapy group that no-one was taking seriously, not until old Matt just happened to die of a Nicotine overdose. Except he didn't just happen to overdose, did he? His cigarettes were laced with pure nicotine." Sherlock pointed out, holding open the door to the greenhouse and gesturing the officers in. "We're looking for a low level shrub ladies and gentlemen, large hairy leaves, and flowers on a stem at the top. Molly, let's check that lab equipment, shall we."

"He could have laced them himself not realizing the strength. It's not uncommon." Mark carried on making excuses, following Sherlock and looking a little desperate.

"You're right, it's not, but I'll tell you what is unusual; a left-handed man applying nicotine patches to his left arm." Sherlock said with a smirk, looking through the microscope at the current slide. It was irrelevant. He continued his search. Molly cautiously picked up a couple of vials, reading the labels. "Not very easy that. Unless of course they weren't applied by him at all, they were applied post-mortem to look like the cause of the overdose. Usually people don't feel the need to cover up something that wasn't foul play."

"Is this the one?" Donovan called, indicating a plant she had found.

As Sherlock turned to look and confirm her discovery there was a sudden movement, and then suddenly Mark was behind him, a needle held close to his throat.

"Nobody move!" he shouted "Especially not you Mr Holmes. I thought I recognised you. Anyway, you wouldn't want to risk getting pricked by this needle, there's probably enough poison on the tip alone to kill you. And not your precious nicotine either."

Sherlock's eyes scanned the plants in the room, also registering the range of emotions on the faces staring at them. Uncertain, tense, shocked. John was in soldier mode, his hand twitching by his side, obviously wishing his had his Browning with him. Molly was staring fearfully at them, not even noticing the smashed vial on the floor she had been holding seconds before. Behind her was the plant he was looking for.

"Ricin, I presume, from the castor bean plant." Sherlock deducted.

"Very good. Ironic isn't it, how a plant which has so many uses, medically and otherwise, is also one of the deadliest and most poisonous in the world." Mark said.

"So they say, but it's not necessarily deadly; with plenty of salt water one could combat the dehydration and low blood pressure resulting from its poison." Sherlock said casually, though he still didn't risk moving.

"That would be true… if ricin was the only poison I extracted from the plant in this needle." Mark corrected.

"RCA." Sherlock breathed "Usually can't penetrate the stomach lining, but if injected straight into the bloodstream…"

"…Coagulation occurs. You think you can survive both poisons Mr Holmes, then try me, but I wouldn't recommend it."

Sherlock didn't move.

"Well played then. You have your hostage, what now?" He asked.

"First, I want you all out!" Mark declared to the room. "Back off and leave me alone, no phone calls for backup, not reporting me as a wanted criminal, you drop this case entirely." He directed to Lestrade.

"You know I can't do that." Lestrade replied cautiously.

"Come on, Inspector, think of the greater good. How many criminals has the great Sherlock Holmes here helped you catch? How many more could he in the future. If you don't let me go I will kill him. You might get me, but I'm just one man, think of the many he could help you catch. Or can't, if he's dead." Mark reasoned. "Let me go and I promise he'll be released, safely, once I'm on my way well out of your jurisdiction."

"Planning on leaving the country? You'll lose the benefits of the NHS too, for a man in your position I wouldn't recommend it." Sherlock reminded him.

"The cancer will kill me whether it's in a British hospital or somewhere else. I'd rather spend my remaining time doing what I love than in a prison cell thanks. That was always my back up plan if I got discovered." Mark replied "Now enough chatter, choose, Inspector, are you going to let me go, or are you going to let your consulting detective here, die?"

Lestrade was silent a few seconds, before sighing. "Come on guys, let's get out of here."

"But sir!" Donovan started.

"Leave it Donovan, move out." Lestrade cut off her excuses. He lead them away, out of the greenhouse and through the house. Molly and John didn't move however.

"And you two!" Mark barked.

John looked at Sherlock, and after a small nod from his friend, started moving towards the door, holding an arm out to Molly.

"C… Can I just say goodbye?" Molly stuttered, moving closer

Mark looked her over. "No. I have no idea what he brought you for, obviously you're not really his girlfriend. I don't trust you."

Molly flinched at his rebuff, and moved back towards John, looking sadly at Sherlock.

"It's okay, Molly." He reassured her. "I have my phone on me. I'll call you as soon as I'm safe."

Molly nodded in understanding, turning quickly to walk away with John, hoping to hide the realization in her eyes of his plan from Mark. He always assured her he had his phone on him before going somewhere that would make her worry, but it wasn't for making phone calls.

* * *

_AN: Yes I know Botanica isn't a word, but it sounded good. :P _


	39. Communication

**Communication**

As soon as everyone had left, Mark went to action, pulling Sherlock through the house with him, still at needlepoint, and collecting a pre-packed bag. Sherlock didn't speak until they were out the front of the house.

"So what now? You're planning on leaving the country obviously, but you'll have a hard time getting through airport security with a hostage, if you can even get to the airport. You can't drive and keep me at needlepoint, and public transport won't take us like this either."

"Shut up!" Mark snapped. "You think I haven't thought of that? I said you'll be released once I'm on my way out of the country, but not that you'd be with me until then. The less you know about where I'm going the better. I'm taking you to a friend's." Mark said, making up his mind and dragging Sherlock down the street with him. They were going about 5 minutes, and were a couple of streets away when Mark pulled him up the path to a door, knocking urgently.

The door was answered by another young man, with cropped dark hair, wearing a tool-belt, clearly in the middle of some kind of maintenance. His eyes went wide as he took in the scene before him, and he swore loudly.

"-What have you gotten yourself into, Mark?! Do you even know who this is?" He asked in shock.

"Of course I know who he is, Dean. Can you just let me in, and I'll explain as best I can." Mark said tersely, looking over his shoulder to make sure they hadn't been followed or spotted.

Dean moved aside, letting them past, also looking cautiously out at the street himself before shutting the door.

"So what's this all about?" Dean asked, turning back to them. He looked rather uncomfortable under Sherlock's judging gaze.

"I may have got myself into bit of trouble." Mark started confessing "My… my smoking group wasn't going so well, no-one was taking me seriously, so I decided to… to give them something to make them take it seriously. You know I mentioned that guy who was also sneering at me at that insurance place? I laced his tobacco with extra nicotine... it was only supposed to be enough for a minor overdose, not to kill him, just make him sick, but… but I accidentally put too much in. I knew as soon as I'd done it. It killed him, Dean. I tried to cover it up, I put nicotine patches on him to make it look like they were the cause, but-"

"Sherlock Holmes." Dean filled in for him.

"Exactly. He turned up at my smoking group in a disguise. Next thing I know I've got police at my door, with a warrant to search my house. So I panicked. I don't want to go to jail, Dean. So I'm leaving the country. I persuaded the police to give me a head start by taking Sherlock here hostage, but obviously I can't take him with me to the airport. I need to you to keep him here-"

"-What!?-"

"- Just until I'm on the plane, I'll text you when I'm safe and you can let him go. Please." Mark begged.

"I can't hold Sherlock Holmes hostage! You may be safe, but what about me? I'll go down for this!" Dean protested.

"Not as bad as I will! And you owe me, Dean! It's not like you're clean anyway, if the police take me down you wouldn't want me to tell them about-"

"Okay, okay!" Dean cut him off abruptly, looking fearfully at Sherlock, not wanting Mark to say whatever it was in front of the detective. Sherlock smirked and raised an eyebrow, making him even more nervous "I'll do it. Give me the needle."

Sometimes, you just have to wait for a killer to make a mistake. This was Mark's second. Though he had Sherlock's arms in a tight grip, he made the mistake of taking the needle away, to pass it to Dean. As his arm reached past Sherlock to Dean's outstretched hand, Sherlock kneed his hand, causing him to let it go and for the needle to fly into the air. Mark let go of Sherlock, and darted backwards, not wanting to get accidentally stabbed by it as it fell, but Sherlock had already worked out its trajectory, and moved freely around it, grabbing the doctor and forcing him to the ground, with his arms locked behind him and a knee in his back, holding him securely. The needle fell beside them, tip first, embedded in the carpet. Sherlock scooped it up with his free hand, pointing it towards Dean, who had just started moving towards him.

"I'd stay back if I was you." He warned. Dean held his hands up, backing away to the wall. Being very careful with the needle, and to keep a grip on Mark, Sherlock pressed the voice command button on his phone through his pocket. It beeped, signalling that it was on.

"Text Molly Hooper. Come get me. S H"

Less than a minute later Lestrade was banging on the door, shouting; "Police, open up!"

Mark struggled, earning Sherlock pulling his arm tighter behind him. Dean looked uncertain.

"You'd better answer quick, you're in enough trouble already" Sherlock warned him. Dean nodded and went to get the door, immediately holding his hands up and making his excuses. Everything happened very quickly then, as Mark was arrested, Dean taken in for questioning, and the needle safely disposed of.

"Handy app you guys got there, for keepin' track of each other." Lestrade commented to Molly and Sherlock as things were wrapping up. "Should get that for me and the missus."

"Sometimes, ignorance is bliss Lestrade." Sherlock replied, turning the jovial look on Lestrade's face a little strained. "Excuse us a second."

He looped his arm through Molly's, walking her a little way away, before turning to face her. Immediately she grabbed him in a tight embrace.

"I was so worried." She said, finding his lips with hers to kiss him fervently. He returned it, but soon pulled back.

"This isn't why I pulled you away, Molly" He said seriously. "I think we need to talk. You nearly blew our cover in there, bringing up the dead man."

Molly bit her lip, looking down at her shoes. "Sorry. I got a little caught up in it all."

"I noticed." Sherlock said flatly.

"I… I meant what I said though, Sherlock. I really don't think it's good for you to keep using the nicotine patches this much-"

Sherlock cut her off with a frustrated sigh. "You need to understand Molly. I need them, and when I say I need them it's not just the addiction speaking. My mind needs a cage, it needs something to reign it in. You remember how harsh I was when you withheld my pain medication? That's what I'm like without the nicotine. My head swarms with information, noticing and analysing everything. It's overwhelming, even for me. I can't control it and end up blurting out observations that hurt people. I know, I do that sometimes anyway, usually when my patches are wearing off. But I can be worse, believe me. I can't sleep either because of how busy my mind is, I can't focus, I'm restless. I _need_ the nicotine to dull it. And if not nicotine, then some other drug that you would be even more opposed too. I don't use cigarettes often, and I can cut them out completely if you're that opposed, but you can't take my patches away from me."

Molly listened, her eyes on his, and nodding in understanding. "Okay. If you really need them, okay."

"Thank you. Now where were we?" He smirked before descending on her lips again.

* * *

_AN: The app was 'Find my Friends' in case you're wondering. Very handy. Anyway, that is all my extension chapters done, I am out of new ideas, so there's just one more finale chapter tomorrow and that's the end I'm afraid. I'll make the finale worth it though ;)_


	40. The City of Love

**The City of Love**

"What do you think about Paris?" Sherlock asked Molly, over a body he was examining in the morgue.

"Um… I've never been but it's supposed to be nice. Why?" Molly asked. Part of her was hoping it was a romantic suggestion, but she knew better than to get her hopes up.

"I was contacted by a potential client in Paris this morning. A statue was stolen from the Tuileries Garden, near the Louvre. Security cameras didn't get anything, and it's as much of a mystery _how_ they took it as _who._ Sounds potentially interesting."

"Oh. Yeah, sound good. How long do you think it will take?" Molly asked. Trying not to get her hopes up hadn't worked very well, and she still found herself disappointed that he was asking for a case, not for her.

"No more than a day or two I imagine." Sherlock answered, finishing his examination of the body, but staying behind to help her put it away to continue their conversation.

"I'll miss you." Molly said, with an affectionate little smile.

Sherlock looked Shocked for a second, then smirked. "I was hoping you'd come with me actually."

It was Molly's turn to look shocked, but excited at the same time. "Really?"

"Of course. You know I need an assistant on my cases. And John won't come with me on this one, he read the email over my shoulder, and said, and I quote, ' I'm not going with you to Paris, Sherlock. People will definitely talk.' Not that I was going to ask him anyway, you are a much more suitable candidate to accompany me on this one. But I think he was more thinking about spending time with his girlfriend while I'm gone, than giving me an opportunity to spend time with mine. You remember Mary, don't you?"

"Mary from the pearls case? I thought he liked her." Molly smiled. She had thought at the time they would make a sweet couple.

"His interest was transparent, as was hers. Anyway, back to the issue at hand. Will you accompany me to Paris?" Sherlock asked, stepping closer and bringing a hand up to her face, combing it back through her hair.

"When do we leave?" She asked breathlessly, leaning into him.

Sherlock rewarded her with a quick peck on the lips, before stepping back, turning up his collar ready to leave. "I should have this case finished by the end of the day, we can leave for Paris tomorrow morning and have you back in time for work Monday. I'll make all the travel arrangements and send you the details later. See you then." He winked, leaving the lab with a skip in his step.

* * *

And so the next evening, after a long day of investigation, Molly found herself sitting across from Sherlock in an expensive restaurant by the 'Palais de Chaillot' with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower. The tower's lights lit up the night sky, as well as the little light-up helicopter toys being flung into the air by merchants in the plaza, like mini-fireworks. There was an elegant atmosphere to the balcony of the restaurant they were on, but outside it was a charged, celebratory, like a party. Molly was in awe of it all.

"What are you thinking about?" Sherlock asked her, watching her affectionately. . He seemed perfectly at ease here, not at all as awestruck as she was. He barely glanced at the tower, or anything else going on around them. For now, his attention was all Molly's.

"Just how… amazing it all is. Being here, in Paris. By the Eiffel Tower. When you said were coming here on a case I didn't expect we'd have time for stuff like this." Molly admitted.

"The case is a fairly simple one. I have almost all the information I need, I'll have cracked it by noon tomorrow, so I figured we could afford to take the night off. Even if the case wasn't going so well, I'd have made time for this though." He added, still gazing into her eyes. He swallowed, beginning to look slightly nervous. "I… I have something I wanted to ask you, and this seemed like the best place to do it."

Molly almost stopped breathing. Now he had her full attention. "What?" She breathed, placing a hand over his, surprised to find it trembling. He reversed the positions of their hands, so hers was in his, rubbing it with his thumb. He seemed to be taking a moment to prepare himself, before he slid out of his seat, onto one knee beside the table. One hand still held hers, as the other dipped into his pocket coming out with a small black box; the kind of box that could only contain one thing. He flicked it open with his thumb, turning it to her and revealing the delicate diamond ring inside.

"I'm sure you know what this means, Molly, like I'm sure you know what a big thing it is for me to be asking." He began, "I never thought I would end up in this position, but as ever in these matters, you have proved me wrong. I have given it a lot of thought, examined my feelings thoroughly, and have come to the conclusion that I will always want and need you in my life. Molly Hooper, will you marry me?"

By the time he had finished there were tears of happiness sparkling in Molly's eyes. "Oh Sherlock!" She choked out with a laugh "I would love too. But are _you_ sure? We've only been dating six months, and I thought you needed time?"

Sherlock slid smoothly back into his seat, making quick work of taking the ring out of its box and sliding it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. "The time we've been dating is irrelevant, I've known you much longer. I only needed time to get my emotions in balance so as not to interfere with cases, which I believe I have now achieved, so there really is no need to wait any longer."

Molly smiled, turning the ring so the lights of the tower reflected off it. Suddenly a thought came to her. "So… that double room you booked for us?" Molly had been surprised when they had checked into the hotel early that day to find Sherlock had booked them a double room. At the time he had excused it by saying there were no twin rooms available and only one single occupancy room, therefore the only choice had been to share. Now though, she wondered if there was more to it.

Sherlock chuckled, sipping his drink. "We've come this far, Molly, we might as well wait a little longer to do it properly, don't you think?"

Molly bit her lip. "How much longer?"

Sherlock put his drink down, leaning across the table to whisper in her ear.

"How soon can you arrange the wedding?"

* * *

_AN: So there ypu have it ladies and gentlemen. The last chapter (or the anniversary special as I like to think of it. Before I added the extension, this was going to be posted on my wedding anniversary; the settings in Paris based on my honeymoon.) I hope you have all enjoyed the journey as much as I have. Many many thanks to all those who followed, favorited and reviewed; I think I'm really gonna miss all your comments. I don't have any ideas currently for another fic, but maybe after season 3 I might be inspired to write again. Bye bye mi lovelys._


	41. Bonus Chapter

_AN: Hello again. I know this story was supposed to be over, but I realized the other day that for a cat lover, I didn't put half as many Toby references in there as I should have done. And then this little idea just sprang into my mind. I considered making it a one-shot, but though it made more sense here, so am giving it to you guys as a __**Bonus Chapter.**_

* * *

**A Not-So-Average Day In The Life of Toby the Cat**

Toby the cat awoke, slowly opening his eyes. He gave a huge yawn before getting to his feet, stretching first his back feet then his front feet. His fur was a bit ruffled from sleeping, so he turned to give a few licks to his side, straightening it out before jumping down from the end of the bed where he'd been napping.

He walked across the sunbeam falling from the window, determining that it was roughly midday by the position of the sun. Still a while before Mummy came home, still a while before dinnertime. He headed for his food bowl anyway, sure there were a few biscuits left over from his breakfast. His memory had served him well, and he snaffled them up. The water in his bowl was boring and tepid. His ears swivelled to the sound of the kitchen tap dripping, and jumped up onto the draining board to access it. Cool and fresh, much better. Tap water was his second favourite, after the water left in pots and pans Mummy was leaving to soak overnight. That wasn't exactly fresh, but it was certainly not boring either. There were no pans left soaking today though, so tap water would have to do.

Now, Toby had important work to do. Last night a host of new objects had arrived in the flat; mostly in the bedroom, but some scattered around the living area too. It was Toby's job today to investigate them all, give them a good sniffing, and if he liked them, rub his scent over them. After all, if they were here, then they were his.

The biggest change was to the spare bedroom, so it was here Toby investigated first. The desk had been transformed into some kind of laboratory, glass beakers all over it, and a microscope, smelling very strongly of chemicals. So strongly in fact, Toby passed up a closer sniff, quickly leaving again. The main bedroom held the most telling scents. There had been a new wardrobe built a few days before, though it had remained empty at the time it was now full of clothes, all smelling very strong of someone who was not Mummy. It wasn't an unfamiliar scent though; it was the scent of Tall Man. Usually his things belonged in the other room. Strange, that they should now live in here.

Back out in the living room, Toby noticed the pattern that all the new things had Tall Man's scent on them. The large range of books on the bookshelf, the case containing some kind of instrument, rather a few shoes on the shoe rack, and on the mantelpiece (which after years of practise, Toby could now successfully navigate _without_ knocking anything off) a human skull. After successfully cataloguing and scenting all these new items, Toby went to investigate the latest change. A change only made that morning, but with significant meaning.

Over by the door were two suitcases. One usually lived under the bed. Mummy had pulled it out that morning, and filled it with things, leaving it by the door, where the other one had been dropped off by the Silver-haired Man that morning, just before Mummy had left. The suitcase only smelled faintly of Silver-Haired-man though, only from his recently carrying it. Mostly, like all the other new things, it smelt of Tall Man. What that meant he had no idea, but he knew what Mummy's bag being by the door meant; she was going away for a longer period than usual. Two days, a week, it varied. Toby didn't like it much when she went away. He would be fed, that woman who smelt a bit like mummy, but wasn't mummy (some kind of relative) would come by to make sure of that, but it wasn't the same as having mummy home. Still, what could Toby do it about it? Very independent creatures were these humans, they'd come and go as they pleased. As long as he was fed there was no point making a fuss.

Finished with his investigations, Toby jumped up onto the sofa, padded around for a bit to make it comfortable, cleaned all the dust and strange scents off himself, and settled down for another good nap.

Toby dosed on and off for hours. By the time he felt like moving again the sun had gone down completely. It was late. Too late in fact, on an ordinary day, Mummy would be home to feed him by now. Today did not seem to be an ordinary day though. Toby jumped down from the sofa and padded over to the window, effortlessly leaping up onto the sill, where he could watch the street below.

He watched as cars drove past, watched the occasional moth bump into the window, then continue on its way. Watched a few people walking past, though there were never as many at this time as there would have been earlier in the day. His ears swivelled, picking up the sounds of city life, as well as the sights. A baby was crying in another flat, sounding almost like another cat. Toby knew the difference, but that didn't stop his ears turning automatically towards the sound.

Finally after some time of watching and listening, Toby saw a sleek black car pull up outside the flat. His ears perked up at the sound of a familiar voices coming from it. Tall Man got out first, walking round the car and opening the door to let out Mummy. Finally, she was home. Toby got up, pacing backwards and forwards on the windowsill a couple of times as they walked up towards the building. Just before they reached the building door, Toby jumped down, knowing it would be no good watching from there now. He paced in front of the door to the flat instead, meowing impatiently.

The voices and giggles of the pair approached the door, and Toby made room for it as it swung open. At first he was confused. He could smell two people, but only see one set of legs. Looking up he saw that Tall Man had Mummy in his arms. That was a new one, but then nothing surprised him from these humans. He meowed in greeting to them, then ran over to his food bowl expectantly, turning to see if they followed. Neither seemed to be paying him any attention however. Tall Man still didn't put Mummy down, carrying her across the flat. Some of the material from her long white dress seemed to slip, cascading down to the ground, dragging along beside Tall Man's footsteps.

Toby's eyes dilated, viewing the way it dragged across the ground as an invitation to play, to hunt. He chased after them, trying to pounce on the silky material, that always slid away just before he reached it.

As they approached the door to the main bedroom, Toby crouched down, focusing on where the cloth would be in a few seconds time, ready for one big pounce. His opportunity was stolen from him though, as Tall Man Kicked the bedroom door closed behind him and Mummy.

* * *

_AN: No prizes for guessing what Sherlock and Molly are up to ;) You may also be pleased to hear, that despite the fact I thought I was out of ideas before, a new wave of inspiration has struck. Yes that's right, as soon as I have the idea's straightened out in my head, I will be starting on __**a sequel! **__(dun dun dunnnn) So if you're interested, keep your eyes peeled for that one._


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